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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years ago

Text

This is the Beat of My Heart

happy very early birthday to @jaskierswolf! have some soulmates.

new soulmate mechanic: you can hear your beloved’s heartbeat whenever you feel frightened

art by the always-talented @mawbwehownets

tw: mentions of the Trials, canon typical violence but it’s just the cave scene from Posada/Four Marks, minor emotional Geralt whump (self loathing witcher feelings), hurt/comfort with a very fluffy ending

---

Geralt’s fingers curl painfully into the tops of his legs. He’s trying to hold himself down against the rough-hewn seat of the tavern bench with all his mighty strength; there’s an irritating sound filling the small room that has activated his fight or flight response, and he can’t do either without drawing suspicion from the already antsy villagers. The haunting rhythm echoes through him, a soft but insistent thud thud thud that floods his senses and soothes his aching head. The sound is more familiar to the witcher than his own gruff voice. More familiar than his brothers’ voices, or Vesemir’s. This staccato beat has marked out every terrifying moment in the witcher’s long life.

The sound that pounds against Geralt’s ears is his soulmate’s heartbeat.

The poor, ignorant fool he’s meant to match in every way is wandering around this shit-hole tavern in Posada, totally unaware of the sad, unsavory fate that Destiny has bestowed upon them. Geralt never thought this day would come, really. Being bound to a witcher was bad enough but being in the same room with one, feeling the subtle pull of forces far beyond your control meddling with your life… drawing you towards danger and death...

It will be better for both of us if I leave as soon as possible, Geralt thinks to himself. He takes a quick inventory of his purse and swords and finds them all accounted for. At least I can spare them the tragic end they’d no doubt meet at a witcher’s side. They would likely hate me if I ever sought them out.

They must be terrified of him, whichever one of these people Destiny has saddled with the other half of Geralt’s soul. They’ve heard his heartbeat, too, in their moments of fear. As well as Geralt knows his soulmate’s giddy, fluttering pulse pattern, they have lived with his slow mutant heartbeat in return. Were they even more frightened when they heard how slow it was? Did the connection serve its purpose, calming them down and reassuring them of his presence, or had it made things worse, elevated their level of terror? How cruel it was for Destiny to chain this person to a living firebrand, to create them to be the perfect other half for someone who’s no more than a monster.

That heartbeat, vibrant and steadfast, is what had kept Geralt alive and fighting for survival during the worst of his Trials. When the poisons and tinctures and potions had crawled through his veins, turning them from black to red to black again and twisting his body into something other, that glorious beating had been there for him. The sound of his soulmate’s fragile mortal heart had measured out the seconds, giving him something to cling onto. That heartbeat had given Geralt something to love. To hope for in his worst moments. When they had dragged him back into those dark, musty rooms, seventeen and screaming with what little was left of his voice, all Geralt could do was pray for his future soulmate’s heartbeat to return to him. To comfort him.

In the relentless pain and terror of those added experiments, Geralt had kept that sound buried deep within his very being, like a candle in the center of a pitch-black room. Even when they said the Trials would take his emotions from him, that the additional testing would obliterate his humanity entirely, the sound of a stranger’s heartbeat never failed to stir the strongest feelings of love and safety he’d ever known.

Can ever know, perhaps.

Regardless of what might have been in another lifetime, Geralt keeps his fingers clenched and his muscles taut. He focuses all his energy on keeping himself sitting. He would have been content to stay there in the corner, his eyes trained on the grain of the worn wooden table before him, ignoring Destiny’s desires entirely… except…

Except for the damned bard. The novice bard swans his way over to the witcher’s corner table, lashes fluttering and face flushed. Geralt catches a faint whiff of arousal and writes it off as a boyish reaction to the rush of performing. The young brunette opens his mouth and the sweetest voice Geralt has ever heard playfully says: “I love the way you just… sit in the corner and brood.”

“I’m here to drink alone,” the witcher grunts. He can practically feel his fingernails biting through the leather of his gloves. The heartbeat is louder now, closer, and it’s driving Geralt mad.

“Good,” the bard nods, still leaning against a support beam. “Yeah, good. Nobody else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance except-” he takes a slow step forward “-for you.”

The bard is probably barely old enough to order his own vodka, and the bright, sparkling blue of his eyes makes the deeper blue of his doublet look incredibly washed out. Geralt tries to keep his face impassive, rolling his eyes and remaining silent. He’s still thinking about his soulmate… trying to block out the rapid thrumming of their all-too-human heart.

“C’mon,” the brunette urges. “You don’t want to keep a man with… bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me; three words or less!”

Geralt hears his soulmate’s heartbeat growing louder, more irregular and more excited, regardless of his efforts to ignore the hurried drumming. The scent of happiness grows thick and hazy in the air as the bard continues to grin and Geralt realizes, with a tiny jolt of horror, that the origin of the life-altering sound is sitting directly across from him. Geralt matches the rabbit-quick jumps at the junctures of the bard’s wrists to the soft rhythm thumping at the back of his head and finds them to be a perfect match.

It’s you, the witcher thinks, eyes widening slightly against his will. He takes a moment to tamp down his more obvious emotions, trying desperately keeping his expression neutral and under control. The bard is the one whose heartbeat kept me breathing in my very worst moments. Kept me fighting. Kept me…

Geralt suddenly remembers that he needs to answer a question: “They don’t exist.”

“What don’t exist?” the bard asks, eyebrows furrowing. The expression is halfway between a pout and an offended grimace, which infuriatingly verges on being adorable. Geralt’s heart lurches traitorously in his chest. He has never known such horrible yearning in all his many decades on the Path.

“The creatures in your song.”

“Why would you know?” the bard scoffs. Geralt prepares to stand, finally releasing his death-grip on his own legs. His fingers and palms are cramped and tight from holding himself still for so long; the bard is really testing his patience. The witcher is less than two seconds away from revealing the big secret and ruining both of their lives when the young man continues, eyes shining, “Ooooh, fun! White hair, big old loner, two very very scary looking swords…”

Geralt stands from the table and collects his purse.

The bard glances up at him, blue eyes wondrously wide and cheeks flushed pink.

“I know who you are,” he practically breathes. He stands, following Geralt halfway out the door. “You’re the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia!”

Geralt’s fists clench again. The retraction of his muscles keeps him from grabbing the foolish human by the collar and dragging him from the room for a proper chat about manners and soulmates. Thankfully. As the disoriented witcher hurries from the tavern’s main room, he hears the bard shouting after him: “Called it!”

---

Geralt snaps back into consciousness with a grunt. As frustration and fear weave themselves into a web of anxiety at the center of his chest, that soft thud thud thudding fills his ears. It soothes him and helps him focus; he is in a cave, it is midday or a little past, and the bard, Jaskier apparently, has been bound against him, back-to-back. He tugs at the ropes that bind their wrists again but it does no good. Behind him, the bard says quietly: “This is the part where we escape.”

Geralt fears for his soulmate’s wellbeing more than his own. He’s technically responsible for this stupid, fragile person who refused to stay behind despite his warnings. He lowers his voice, “This is the part where they kill us.”

“Unfortunate,” the bard sighs. The witcher listens, confused and a bit shocked, as Jaskier slowly starts to even out his breathing by matching his inhales and exhales to Geralt’s slow, methodical heartbeat.

“How can you hear it?” he asks without thinking.

“Hear what?” Jaskier replies, whispering.

“Your breathing,” Geralt says, as if it’s obvious. “You’re matching it to my… to my heartbeat. You don’t have a witcher’s enhanced hearing so how are you matching the rhythm so perfectly?”

“I was matching it to-”

Their conversation ends abruptly as an angry elven woman storms into the cave. She kicks at them furiously, spitting in the Elder tongue, “Beast!”

“Quick, Geralt!” the bard urges, “Do your witchering!”

“Shut up!”

“No!”

The woman doles out more swift kicks to the chest. One for Geralt and one for Jaskier. More muttering in Elder, insults that even the bard manages to understand and toss around. Geralt grimaces as he’s beaten by Toruviel and hears the thudding even louder than before. The witcher smiles when he notices that he can feel Jaskier’s heartbeat against his back, pulsing through the thin material of the bard’s light woolen doublet. It’s so much more intense, close up like this.

“Leave off! He’s just a bard.”

He’s so much more than that, Geralt’s own thoughts remind him. He’s everything to you.

A wave of urgent protectiveness swells within him and Geralt diverts the attention of the Elf King away from the foolish human, whose mouth has run away with him. Eventually Filavandrel tires of their chatter and pulls his short blade. The Silvan rushes forward, arms outstretched to stop his sovereign, “Wait!”

“Torque! Stand aside!”

“The witcher could have killed me,” Torque rushes to explain. “But he didn’t. He’s different, like us!”

Geralt watches with mild trepidation as the battle-hardened King pushes his subject aside, fury blazing in his clear blue eyes. He understands that this may be his final day alive. He wishes that Jaskier would have listened before and stayed at the tavern below. He wishes, with what may be his final moments alive, that Jaskier were safe and not bound to him this way. Literally and figuratively.

“If you must kill me, I am ready,” Geralt intones. “But the Sylvan is right… don’t call me human.”

The witcher tilts his head back, eyes open but unseeing, his entire being focused on the feeling of Jaskier’s racing heartbeat thudding against the back of his leather armor. The killing blow never comes. Instead, Filavandrel cuts the ropes that bind their wrists; Geralt ignores his initial instinct to check Jaskier for injuries and instead ushers the bard onto his feet and towards the mouth of the cave. “Wait!”

The witcher freezes in his tracks and glances back over his shoulder. Filavandrel holds out a gorgeously crafted lute with a beautiful gold design painted across the front. “My apologies for the loss of your instrument.”

“Your Majesty,” Jaskier gasps. “I couldn’t. You’ve already lost so much.”

“Then promise me to do right by him,” the elf nods at Geralt. “And consider it payment.”

“I swear it,” Jaskier nods, tone serious and face grim. Filavandrel lets his eyes flicker between the two unlikely companions and Geralt prays that the Elf won’t say anything out loud, if he indeed understands the bond between them.

“Be on your way, then, before I change my mind.”

Filavandrel winks conspiratorially and disappears back into the shadow of the caves. Jaskier pulls the lute strap over his shoulder and beckons for Geralt to follow him. “Your horse is probably worried.”

---

It takes nearly six months for Geralt to break down and tell Jaskier the truth about their seemingly uncanny partnership. If it weren’t for the rapid approach of harsher winter weather, he probably never would have said anything at all.

But on one particularly frosty evening, two weeks after Samhain, the witcher sits Jaskier down beside their fire and tries to remember how to speak from his heart. The bard is patient, warming his hands over the flames and waiting for Geralt to gather his words. Jaskier has never rushed him, and for that Geralt is eternally grateful. Taking a hint from his companion’s hunched shoulders, Jaskier speaks first. “What’s on your mind, my dearest White Wolf?”

“I… I have to tell you something and I don’t want you to be angry.”

“Did you spill ink on my new doublet?” Jaskier teases. “Because if you have, I promise to be very cross with you.”

“Hmm,” Geralt half-smiles. He’s terrified, and he can hear Jaskier’s heartbeat surrounding him from all sides. “No, I’m afraid it’s more complicated than replacing a doublet.”

“Oh, is this about us being soulmates?”

Geralt’s eyes snap up to meet Jaskier’s and his mouth drops open. “Wha-? When did you- When di-”

“You said it in your sleep maybe two weeks after we first met,” Jaskier explains quietly, like he’s the one who’s been holding back a secret all this time. He blushes furiously as he tries to apologize and extrapolate all at once, “I thought you were just muttering to yourself, really, or I would have woken you up! I swear! You were just…”

Now it’s Geralt’s turn to wait as Jaskier fumbles to speak.

“You hadn’t been resting well and I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked so happy and content that night, with your hair all loose and the moon so bright…” he shakes his head and giggles nervously, “Anyway, not important. You rolled over and reached for me. You chuckled a little between snores and said A bard for a soulmate, how lovely. It sounded happy, when you said it like that.”

“Was that… the only time?”

“No,” Jaskier smiles. He pulls his knees against his chest and rests his chin atop them, “You reach for me all the time in your dreams. Sometimes you say my name or call me soulmate or beloved. It’s rather sweet and I-” tears brim in his eyes and Geralt’s heart skips a beat “-I know that witchers don’t feel things the same way humans do. I didn’t want to get my hopes up and then-”

“I love you,” Geralt says. He takes Jaskier by the hands before he can stop himself and pulls the pale knuckles against his lips for a soft kiss. “You… You have saved my life so many times.”

“Geralt!”

“I mean it,” the witcher nods. “I know that the Path is treacherous, and I wouldn’t ask you to join me on it and risk your life, but I do love you and care about you. Ever since I was young I have marked my steps by the beat of your heart. I would be happy continuing to do so, whether or not you accept me in return.”

“Oh, Geralt,” Jaskier sob-laughs, flinging himself into the witcher’s embrace. Geralt falls backward, shocked, his arms full of emotional bard. His face is peppered with kisses between hurried words: “I love you, too! I thought you didn’t want me that way. I thought it was just… a witcher mutation thing.”

“Come with me to Kaer Morhen for the winter, Julek. You can learn more about my kind; you can meet my brothers and the old swordmaster for the Wolf School, my adopted father of sorts. We’ll protect you and I-” Geralt clears his throat. “I will hold you every night in my arms, if you so desire.”

“I would like it very much if you were to hold me,” Jaskier grins. “And of course I'll come with you to your witchery keep for the cold months, dear heart. I’ll never part from your side again.”

Geralt presses a firm kiss to Jaskier's forehead, their heartbeats echoing faintly in the witcher's trained ears. Something in his chest settles into place, contented at last. He presses another, even gentler kiss to the bard's chapped lips and feels his heart swell when Jaskier smiles into it. He breathes out his promise as they pull apart, "Never."

#geraskier #geraskier ficlet #art collab sorta #art collab #geraskier art #geraskier fluff #getting together #soulmate au #geraskier soulmate au #soulmates #you can hear you soulmate's heartbeat #heartbeats #tw violence #tw four marks #tooth rotting fluff #happy birthday wolfie #geraskier fluffiness

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b0rista · 4 years ago

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i just saw your connie hcs and omg IM SO IN LOVE😩💕 is it okay to request an angst fic where connie’s s/o, gets shot instead of sasha?

— us.

an alternate universe where instead of losing his best friend, connie springer loses his soulmate.

AN: we love traumatizing q-ball here <3

WARNINGS: violence, death, extreme angst. && this is unedited, oops.

as the night deepened in its severity, you were swerving atop the disarray like that of a fallen angel. no matter how inhuman it felt, your duty was inevitable, as was the cause that came alongside it. you were a soldier. you, and your family. well, they weren’t linked to you through blood, but through experience, and even sorrow. as far blood relative, you were sure that you were nearing the final remnants of your family tree.

you win some, you lose some. even through all of the heartbreak and the waste, you'd managed to gain one thing. one beautiful, perplexing thing. well, it was more of a person than it was a thing; your love, your life, your will to move on— your connie. while you'd only become an item recently, you and connie's feelings toward one another go back, and far. in all honesty, you couldn't exactly recall when it was you first started loving him. and with his feeble memory, you were sure that it went both ways. fortunately, you can't bring yourself to care all that much about the past. you were living in the now, and turbulently so.

currently, you were in the midst of a mission. an intense one, at that. while each and every one of your assignments served with severe purpose, this one in particular wasn't meant to be taken lightly. after all, this had to be your very first time off of the island. not only were you standing on unfamiliar soil, but you were also standing within the core of an established battle between two entirely seperate worlds— that fact alone was enough dangerous as it was exhilarating.

however, the said battle was soon coming to a close, and it was nearing the end of your abrupt visit at the marleyan headquarters. the assignment was meant to be brief, if not a little tightly knit. you were to fight alongside the opposing combatants, retrieve your distant comrade, eren jaeger, and retreat immediately. and while you were still a bit skeptical of the literal aircraft you'd be traveling on, it was surely something you could get used to.

standing alongside your given sector of the battlefield, you were preparing for takeoff. due to having excelled in hand to hand combat during your time as a trainee, you were put closer to the ground than the rest of your associates, much to your worried boyfriend's dismay. as always, he fretted over you. if you so pleased, you could drop him on his ass whenever you'd like. even so, it always felt as if your capabilities were underestimated.

nevertheless, this wasn't the time nor the place for you to sulk in your own bitterness. soon, you'd be home. in the mere matter of hours, you'd be back within the comfortable abode of your home, cozied up in the arms of your beloved. in the moment, that's all you could bring yourself to even think about. you were tired, you were. if anything, the fighting only drained you. you were drained, and the only one able to comfort you was halfway across the battlefield, fighting the same fight as you. once you were to rejoice on the aircraft, you would be sure to pester him for the affection you craved ever so intensely.

with that being said, a call from afar was quick to pull you out of your own head and back to reality. from across the calloused ground that you stood upon, a familiar face waved in your direction.

"y/n!" they would call, "we're boarding— it's time to go home."

at that, you wasted no time in gathering yourself. with a nod, you readied your gear, intertwining your fingertips in between the metallic leashes that resided on your hips. with a single jolt, you propell yourself forwards, releasing your gear's wires onto the nearest rooftop. the moment your feet left the ground, you headed toward the jet. alas, your work here was done.

just as your comrade had said, it was time to go home.

while the carnage beneath you served as a grim reminder of just how destructive your livelihood was, it was the thought of returning to your sweet home within the walls that urged you to look away. a fire had been lit upon your very own accord, and you despised this war. still, it was your war to fight, and with good reason. at least, that's what you told yourself.

as your team's blimp came into view, your voyage into the sky became rushed. clearly, you were aching to leave. little did you know that below the latches of your ODM gear, a tiny pair of copper hues were watching you; and with the utmost fury.

with that final clasp hooking to the aircraft's entrance, you swiftly flew into the air, inured hands grasping at the rescue ropes that fluttered against the metal exterior. the air serving a harsh breeze against your skin, you climbed to the door. however, before you could pull yourself in, a hand reached out to your aid.

"come," the voice would say, earning quite the look from you. to your immediate relief, it was the exact person you'd been meaning to see. looking down at you from within the jet was connie, his arm extended out toward you. and while you couldn't exactly see it due to the circumstances, there was a faint glimmer of consolation poured within his golden hues. thank god, you were alright.

taking hold of his hand, you allowed him to pull you up, bringing you into the craft with such a force, you'd have assumed he was angry with you. however, you knew that that wasn't the case— he was relieved, in the same way that you were. and immediately, he began checking you of any possible harm.

"how are you?" he'd ask, fingers moving to pinch at your cheeks. you only winced at the feeling, the literal life being squeezed out of your face as your boyfriend hurriedly scanned you. this was an occurrence that happened at the end of each and every expedition, much to your displeasure. "are you hurt? anything happen while we were seperated? i didn't realize it'd get so hectic, or else i would have-"

in the midst of his banter, you would only place your hands on his forearms, lowering his touch from either side of your face. gently, you would give them a squeeze, providing him with that reassurance that he desperately needed. softly, you would smile, "i'm okay. by the looks of it, most of us are. that's good."

with a sigh, connie would nod. after all, you were right. only few soldiers were injured, and from what the two of you could tell, most of them were coming home. considering the rare occurrence, you could only smile.

from the corner of your eye, you could see more and more comrades boarding the aircraft. and with time, a particularly familiar face would pull himself on board. having made himself out to be quite the leader, it brought warmth to your core to see jean return safely. the same went for your other friends, of course— sasha, mikasa, armin, and so on. at this point in time, you couldn't even classify them as friends. they were family.

seeing as though your lover was quietly waiting to reconcile with the others, you would lay a brief pat to his shoulder. "i'm gonna put up my gear," you'd say, bringing yourself up to your feet. "while i do that, you ought to thank those two for making it through."

with a nod, he would comply. as always, you were the one to nudge him in the right direction. it was your straightforwardness that balanced out connie's constant uncertainty, adding yet another reason as to why the two of you were simply perfect. without any further discussion, he would make his way over to the entrance of the jet, rejoicing with jean and sasha. as he did, you made your way to the compartment sector of the craft, stowing away your gear. after all, there wasn't any further need for it.

as you situated yourself for the trip back to paradis, you would exchange small talk with your fellow soldiers, both congratulating and thanking those who made it back alive. because truly, you were thankful. it wasn't often that you gain such a victory. though, as time went on and you'd circled your way through the plane, you found yourself headed right back to where your heart lingered.

sitting along the back of the carrier, you saw your love hooked in the middle of his fabulous trio of friends, pulling an immediate smile out of you. he was yet to see you, but you could see him. with both of his arms latched onto the other two, you could hear his quiet confession from where you stood.

"it's not very fair to the others, but you guys are special ... to me."

not wanting to spoil the three's moment, you would only watch. it was the tender silence that stitched together a memorable matter of seconds, despite the circumstances. from a fair couple of feet away, you smiled. unfortunately for you, he was able to catch it.

"and you," connie would add, quickly reaching over to grasp your hand, "you're no different."

melting into his touch, all you could do was interlock your fingers in his own, lips tipping in yet another smile. taking advantage of the opportunity, the boy would pull you into his shared embrace, tugging you in between him and the other two. the iron outline of your uniform managed to graze jean's side, causing quite the exclamation: "ouch, jackasses. don't go for the hug when you're covered head-to-toe in metal."

of course, you would only ignore the brunette's antics, further sinking into the heavenly embrace of your lover. with your cheek pressed against his chest and his fingers tracing along the locks of your hair, you immediately felt at ease. this was home.

"now, now," sasha would coo, adjusting her ponytail, "now isn't the time to overflow the aircraft in your PDA, lovebirds. when do we get to eat?"

pulling your head from connie's chest, you would let out a chuckle, "not until we land, sasha. you do realize we're in the air, right?"

"ah," the girl would sigh, sheepishly moving to scratch the back of her neck. adjusting yourselves, the bunch of you moved to your feet, "i suppose i haven't quite adjusted just yet. just three years ago, we relied on our horses for everything."

"yeah," jean would add, "somehow, it feels like that was just yesterday."

now that you were all situated, the four of you shifted further towards the rest of your team, who were all dancing and shouting in celebration. you hadn't even realized how elated everyone was, having been so focused on the others. out of everyone boarded the ship, it was those who were apart of the 104th that had witnessed the most. with that in mind, acts of celebration were more mild than anything else. while you were glad, you were glad quietly.

still, something felt off. somebody was missing.

just as you were about to make a comment regarding the missing member of the squadron, a quick remark from sasha caught your attention.

"did you hear a sound just now?"

while the other two dismissed the thought, it was you that took it into a much more thorough consideration. compared to anyone else, sasha's sense of hearing was impeccable. while the others may have failed to realize it, she heard something. and with her senses mixed with your paranoia, you were quick to take the remark into account. out of instinct, you watched the door. the door was open, and one of your comrades from below remained missing. the door was open, and sasha heard something. the door was open, and it was vacant of any sort of movement.

the door was open, and someone slipped through.

a miniature figure with a barreled weapon pounced through the doorway and onto the aircraft, and at the sight of a single finger latched onto the trigger, your heart itself dropped. before anyone else had the chance to react, you did. seeing as though the muzzle was aiming toward the center of the flood, you were quick to lunge sideways, pushing whoever it was that stood before the armed figure out of the way. as you flushed whatever will you had to live into the force of your push, sasha simply looked at you in horror— the horror of having to survive, simply due to your own accord.

it was quick. it was immediate, the single bullet, plunging directly into your chest. it was quick to enter you, and it was just as quick to warp you of your senses completely. while you saw that you were falling, you couldn't feel the impact of the wooden floor beating into your back. you couldn't feel it. you felt nothing.

and while you felt nothing, connie felt everything. his entire universe, crumbling apart before him.

in a blend of absolute horror, you could see from your hindsight as he rushed to your side, palms immediately moving to cup your face. moving your blurred gaze towards him, he would shout at you. he would shout, but it was all unintelligible.

"no, no, no," he would mutter, fiercely shaking his head. you were in an absolute daze, and he couldn't sense what you were feeling. hell arose in the back, and your attackers were being mercilessly beaten into defeat. your friends, however, didn't leave your side.

tears brimming in her eyes, sasha would rush to get some sort of a bandage for your wound, which was bleeding profusely. before anyone could process anything, you were laying in a pool of blood, the crimson flow staining your uniform.

"goddammit— HURRY!" your lover would scream, eyes wide. your head lay in his lap, and his fingers tenderly graze the sides of your cheeks in a loving, desperate manner. soon enough, he would feel the raw set of tears begin to well at the corners of his eyes, too. this wasn't happening, this couldn't happen. not to you. dear god, not to you.

"look at me, y/n." he would say, to which you tried your absolute hardest to oblige. you tried, but as your life itself began to drain, you only struggled.

"you can't leave, baby. you can't go, not yet. not after everything we've been through, everything we've fought for! it's always been us, it's always been you. look at me!"

however, you couldn't look. no, you couldn't do anything. instead, you could use whatever strength you held, and mutter the very last of your words: "us."

it's always been us.

with that, your blood went cold. and as your eyes closed, and your skin paled, a blood curdling scream begging you to stay filled the air around you.

#attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot imagines #aot x reader #connie springer x reader #connie springer imagine #bye i cried writing the end

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blubberingmess · 5 years ago

Text

[Little guy: Bubba] *your view*

Soulmate AU

Pairing: Bucky/chibi!bucky x male!reader

• yes, there will be another part but in Bucky's view :) sorry not sorry

Summary: A life with your grumpy chibi, before you met your soulmate.

Warning: none

Ideas for what chibi!bucky looks like (minus the ears and tail - maybe next time). Drawings aren't mine, also the gif below.

More info about the AU (Please read):

There's no particular time or date when the small version of their soulmate-- or what most people called chibi-- would randomly come out from nowhere, dressed in their favorite/mostly used clothes. They mostly appear when one turned eighteen to twenty-five. On some rare occasions, some chibis won't show up until the person turned to their thirties.

No one knows how it works, not even the scientists. They have never experimented on one because they can't, for chibis cannot be killed no matter how you tried. They only disappears when the real version of them dies. But! They can get hurt, it won't bruise or anything but they can feel the pain.

Chibis don't talk, they communicate through actions and facial expressions from what you've heard. Your soulmate's mood affected the chibi version of themself, will mostly find comfort from their 'guardian' but that's all. People will affect their chibis emotionally, but not physical feelings like pain, hunger, etc.

They also have different personalities, the same personality your soulmate already have and also the personality they would build themselves from how you would treat them.

They eat, drink, sleep like normal people would. They have a mind of their own and as smart as the person they represent.

They also age, their skin wrinkles and their hair grays as well. One woman you found out that her soulmate is twenty years older than her, a few gray streaks of hairs can be seen on her chibi.

Also, they are as small as the size of you hand - even taller depends on your soulmate. But the chibi with the size of your palm are almost always be 6ft < your soulmate. That means if you're smaller than him, your chibi self will be smaller than your palm which means it'll be so much smaller than your soulmate's palm which is.... oh god. You'll get squished! But that's okay, your chibi self can't die ;)

While your soulmate is the person representing your chibi, your chibi's soulmate is your soulmate's chibi :) chibi's are much more emotional - the real emotion of the person. For example; your soulmate is angry at you while his chibi self is not, then that means he isn't actually angry.

More info about them as you read through the story :)

Ask me anything about it if your ever confused or curious and I'll try my hardest to answer it ♡ or this AU is already made, then I apologize if I explained something wrong. This is just how I see this AU would work :)

Also, if you don't like or against fics like this, you are very much welcome to ignore this or unfollow me (igaf, boo) I support LGBTQ+ wether you like it or not~

[Chibi!Winter Soldier]

It was a cold night of December when you first met your chibi, a rather scary meeting to be honest. You were just making yourself a cup of hot cocoa when you heard a shuffling behind you, it was almost inaudible but you heard it.

Slowly turning around, you didn't see anyone, but you did saw something move on the counter just behind the large bowl of fruits you have. There's a pair of steely blue eyes on top of the bananas, quickly ducking down as soon as it saw you snapping your eyes at it. Though, it was no use, it has already been caught and the mop of brunette can still be seen from your point of view.

"You know I can see you right?" Your voice laced with amusement as you spoke, already knew what the small guy is. The chibi tensed, the top of its head poking up more from behind the yellow fruit.

"Its okay, little guy, I'm not going to hurt you," you coaxed the chibi with a soft voice, letting them know you genuinely don't mean any harm. Regardless of how calm your voice sounds, your inner self is currently freaking out at this moment. Heart hammering against your chest as you anticipate on what's about to happen; excited to finally meet your chibi, the mini version of your soulmate!

Slowly but surely, you sees him peek half of his head to the side. Frosty blue eyes staring up at you cautiously-- curiously-- as he analyze your face for a moment before slowly completely stepping out from his hiding place, an arm behind his back.

You immediately noticed the mask that's covering the lower part of his face, and his clothes; some type of tactical gear.

Is your soulmate a soldier or something? An agent?

You were about to take a step forward to properly greet the chibi when he suddenly pulls out a knife from behind him, held by a metal arm, the same arm he's been hiding as he stepped out. A small, but surprisingly intimidating growl emits from him making you lift your hands up in surrender.

"Woah there, buddy! I thought chibis were supposed to be soft and loving? I didn't know they would also want to stab you in the freaking face!"

Another growl before he pulled out something from his thigh holster; a handgun.

You gulped. "Or two. Damn."

He didn't do anything but glare at you, and if looks could kill, you would've been six - no, sixty feet below right now. The chibi's action confuses you greatly, especially after hearing about them being really clingy and sweet towards their 'guardian'; not this!

My soulmate must be a real hot-headed motherfu--

Your thought was cut off by a low rumble that reverberated throughout the whole kitchen, disrupting the tense silence between the two of you. Looking around the kitchen and back down at the small, feisty chibi, you gave him a nervous smile and asks, "You hungry?"

The chibi's eyes flickers at the warm mug behind you then back up at your eyes, silently asking - no- commanding you. You cautiously and slowly dropped down your right hand, stiffening as you heard him cocked his tiny gun.

You doubt it could actually kill you but it still looks intimidating, especially the little guy who is aiming it at you.

"I'm just gonna give you the mug, see?" You grabbed the now warm cocoa and a thin straw you didn't know you'll actually need until now. Slowly making your way towards the counter where he stands, you carefully placing the coffee beside him before walking backwards on your previous spot.

He gingerly lowers his weapons, tucking them back inside his pocket and holster and walked towards the mug, not before giving you a warning look.

"Cookies?" You didng wait for a reply as you began searching through your cupboards, it's not like you expected it considering chibis can't talk.

The intimidating chibi watches you as he took a sip from the thin straw, following your every move with curious eyes. He can't help but feel guilty from his not-so-friendly first impression, it's his instinct to pull out a weapon - well, it's actually your soulmate's instinct, but there's truly nothing in his mind that could push him to actually hurt you.

Your soulmate would've done the same.

Placing the small plate of assorted cookies beside him, you crouched down and watches as he took a broken piece and began nibbling on it, giving you a chance to get a closer look at him.

His mask is now off and resting close to him, making you see his whole face. His lips are pink and a bit upturned on the sides, stubble around the lower part of his face. He looks gloomy and tired, like there's something bothering him for days - even months. No doubt there's not, from how he looks and how he acted a few minutes ago, you could instantly tell that your soulmate isn't like anybody else.

It scares you and excites you at the same time.

You came back to reality when you noticed that something is being pushed right in front of your face, it's a mini chocolate chip cookie. Trailing your eyes from the cookie and to the chibi who's holding it out for you, a smile adorned your face when you saw him looking to the side with a nonchalant look on his face, a small blush on his cheeks.

"Hey bubba? Have you seen my pen?" You mutter-ask from your spot on the couch, looking around for your pen. Bubba (What you decided to call him) opened his eyes from the armrest of the couch on your left, looking up at you while still nibbling on his plum.

It's been three year since your first meeting with your chibi and living with the little guy isn't as bad as you thought it would, just scary. He would still glare at you and send you frosty looks but only when you would do something stupid or idiotic, but he immediately warms up at you after a few days.

Bubba gave you an 'are you serious' look before lifting his flesh hand up and tapping his ears two times before lowering them back down on his half-eaten plum. You kink an eyebrow before reaching up to your right ear and felt the pen you've been looking for the past five minutes, propping your left arm on the armrest behind Bubba.

"Thanks, little dude!"

Bubba just sassily rolled his eyes before he resumed nibbling on his beloved plum, eyes closing in bliss and instinctively leaning back on your arm as he do so.

Who knew the grumpy chibi likes to cuddle and curl up against you when you're reading or working inside your office, sometimes would even take a nap on your shoulder, on top of your head, or your lap kid he feels like it.

What you also noticed is that the little guy likes to eat, a lot, he would practically order you around to make him something sweet or savory, maybe even both. You don't actually mind, you like taking care of him, you just wish you could also take care of your soulmate like how you would take care of the chibi.

You learned that if your chibi would act this way; asking for different kinds of foods and demands affection from you, that means your soulmate is craving them just as much. But sadly, you're not there to actually give him what he needs, you doubt the chibi version of yourself could... maybe?

Oh how it breaks your heart everytime.

Speaking of breaking your heart, how many times had you woken up at the sound of Bubba's whimpers and cries at early mornings around two or four. Everytime he would curl up against your chest, crying and clutching at your shirt as you let him soak your shirt with his tears.

"Hey-hey, it's okay. It's okay, Bubba. Shh, you're okay. I got you, don't worry." you cooed, scooping the chibi with both of your hands. Bubba's shaking immediately subsides the moment he felt your soft, gentle touch on his back, breathing heavily while tightening his hold on your thumb like it's his lifeline.

Glossy blue eyes looking up at you in pain and sadness; almost begging, lips quivering as tears began pouring out from his eyes. Your heart clenched inside your chest as you watched him breakdown in your hands.

You want to calm him down. You want to help him so bad to get rid of the pain, the sadness, but you can't. Unless your soulmate can't calm down, the chibi in your hands won't.

Thankfully, episodes like that don't happened often and doesn't last long - not anymore. A small mood swings here and there but it would almost always immediately diminished after a minute or two.

Your soulmate's chibi must be calming him down. Good job, me that is also not me.

When you go out which isn't that often considering you work from home-- also seeing that you don't have that much friends outside to go away with-- Bubba will be guarded and on your shoulder at all times with his small metal hand on the back of your neck. He'll always have that deep scowl on his face that only softening up when looking at you or when you offer him sweets - ice cream preferably.

You did left him one time, only coming back to a very stressed out and dishielved looking Bubba. Thinking at first that your soulmate is in another one of his heart wrenching episode, but it wasn't. You noticed it the moment you stepped inside the living room and seeing him perched up on the windowsill, his eyes immediately brightens up when he sees you - before frowning once again, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away from you with a pout.

You just sigh and didn't even make a move to hide the smile on your face.

Your chibi is such a drama queen.

[Chibi!Runningawayfromeveryone!Bucky]

You felt something lightly tickled your cheek but you're still sleepy to do anything about it, ignoring the next one your forehead, then on your other cheek, and then your temple. The small of plum and something woody with a hint of gun powder enters your nostril, a familiar scent you grew accustomed to for the past five years with your chibi.

"I'm awake. Geez, Bubba, good morning to you too." you chuckled, patting the said chibi on his head. Bubba grin up at you before giving you a sweet kiss on your nose then began nuzzling into your neck, sighing in content.

The temperature in Bucharest this time of year is quite cold but you're happy that it doesn't bother your chibi, he actually likes it. You decided to have a vacation; just you and Bubba, away from New York, your migraine inducing work - your family. It's all just too much for you to handle.

Bubba was the one who actually chose Bucharest for some unknown reason, he really wanted to go there and who are you to turn him down? Especially when he looks up at you with those big, pleading eyes of his.

Ugh. If this what your soulmate looks like, you don't know if you can handle him. You don't even know if you can say 'no' to him! Now that's scary.

Lifting up your gaze at the ceiling, a frown quickly replaced the soft smile on your face at the thought of your soulmate.

It's been five years since your chibi appeared and you're still yet to see him. You've hang out with the small group of friends you have, relatives, and even visit places you've never visited before with Bubba by your side, but it's all fruitless.

Maybe he's gone? No, Bubba is still here (snoring soundly). Maybe he don't want you? Can't be... right? Bubba likes you and find comfort in your touch. But... maybe it's just Bubba himself and not really your soulmate.

"Bubba stop moving around!" You hissed, gently grabbing the said chibi from your head. He started wriggling around like an excited puppy and tugging at your hair the moment the two of you stepped out from the hotel building, it's a weird behavior you haven't seen him in before.

"What got you so excited, little guy? We're just visiting the market nearby to buy some peaches... Maybe some plums as well. Actually, I'm craving for some corvig."

Bubba half-heartedly listened to you ramble while his eyes roams the market sharply, ears peeled and nose constantly sniffing the air. What you didn't know is that chibis will act like that-- excited and eyes darting from one place to another-- if it means your soulmate is nearby, their senses are tingling and they can feel their heart getting warmer the shorter the distance you are from your soulmate - also Bubba's too.

You stopped in the middle of the market, looking for the particular stall that sells peaches. Bubba is also looking around but for a different reason, absently clutching at his shirt where his supposedly heart is located.

"Why's there no fruit stalls around? Is it on the other side of the market?" You groaned, pulling out your phone. The people around you gave you looks, some with confusion but most of them are uneasiness, thinking you're somewhat scolding your chibi before going back to what they were doing, but now all of them had stepped/walked away from you.

It's not like you cared, the first thing on your mind right now is peaches and plums, also corvig.

You suddenly heard Bubba let out a noise, a squeak-like of grunt before scrambling off your shoulder and down to the pavement with ease. It took you a few seconds to comprehend what just happened before snapping out of it and sprinting towards where Bubba run off to.

Damn, didn't know chibis could run so fast.

"Bubba! Where are-- you." Your last word changed it's aim from Bubba to the man before you, staring back at you with the same surprised expression on his face. His hands are half stretched in front of him before dropping them down to his sides, straightening his back.

Your eyes swing down to the two chibis who are currently busy hugging each other, giggling as hearts and flowers practically floats around them. You watched as Bubba kissed the other chibi on the cheek before nuzzling his head on his shoulder, who squeaked in happiness before burying his face on his chest, obviously much more smaller that Bubba.

The chibi is... you - a chibi version of you exactly; dressed like you and almost looks exactly like you.

Gazing back up at the big version of Bubba or your soulmate, you cleared your throat and was about to step forward to introduce yourself when he suddenly took a step back, his left hand quickly moved to his back.

And then he growls.

You whole body steeled once you heard the sound left his lips and your hands are lifted up in a split second, enough to for him to notice but not enough draw any attention towards the both of you.

With him ready to pull out a weapon behind his back whilst glaring at you with ice-cold, guarded look in his eyes, and you with your hands up in surrender was all too familiar it makes you want to laugh and crack a joke.

"I thought soulmates were supposed to be soft and loving? I didn't know they would also want to stab you in the freaking face!"

Please tag me if you ever tried this Soulmate AU. I really want to read one 💕💕 I hope you enjoyed it. There's a part 2 but in Bucky's view of chibi!You suddenly popping up in his life like fairy god mother.

If there are misused words or wrong grammars, don't be shy to tell me!

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vampcubus · 5 years ago

Text

Bite Me (Midoriya/Vampire!Reader) [Part 2]

| A/N: Here’s the second half because tumblr is a cunt sometimes so it had to be split 🙃 |

♡ Warnings: Angst, blood-drinking. ♡

♡ Words: 2700+ ♡

See part 1... here

. . .

Messages (11:21 AM)

Midoriya-chan: I’m so sorry but I can’t make it today! Midoriya-chan: I’ll make it up to you I promise You: Whatever 🙄 You: You better Midoriya-chan: I’m sorry…

You looked up from your phone and sighed, arms crossed as you leaned against the entrance to the cafeteria where you could see Midoriya and Uraraka talking. He’s smiling too, his phone on the table beside his tray.

He can’t be too sorry.

“Tch.” You turned on your heel and made your way to the school roof, where you were supposed to meet the green-haired boy up until a few minutes ago.

Slumping down against the ground with your back against a wall, you felt a song coming on. You set your beloved electric guitar to the side for once, letting the sound of your own voice carry the music on its own. . . . You’re a bit thrown when you see a tiny pink note slapped onto your dorm’s door. You furrow your brows and pluck the fluorescent pink piece of paper from the door eyes lazily skimming across each word.

Please, meet me in my dorm tonight. I want to talk to you. It’s important. -Uraraka Ochako

Oh great. What did she want? It’s not like you were able to spend time with Deku today—aside from early this morning. She prevented that. What else could she possibly want from you?

You sigh, crumpling up the note and tossing it in the general direction of the trash bin.

After club activities ended, you decided to head over to Uraraka’s dorm to ‘talk’ as she had put it in her vague note. You knocked on the door with a heavy fist, still lagging from hero training earlier. You were also getting low on blood in your system, ultimately making you feel weak. You’d have to wait a bit longer for your next fix though. Vampirism wasn’t necessarily a funded lifestyle, and most blood was good at use in hospitals saving lives.

You’re shaken from your thoughts when the brunette opens the door and blinks at the sight of you standing there. Had she thought you wouldn’t come?

“Oh, L/N-san you came. Good.” She sighed as if relieved and then stepped aside, inviting you in.

You strolled in and kept a keen pair of eyes on the girl as she closed the door. She offered you a seat but you promptly declined. You didn’t want to be in here in the first place.

“I’m sorry for calling you here so suddenly. I know we aren’t on the best of—” She starts, clasping her hands together and wringing them.

“Stop, just tell me what you wanted to talk about. I don’t do small-talk.”

“It’s about Deku.” She admits, her face suddenly serious as she drops her hands to her sides, pulling at her skirt as she fidgets. “I need to be honest with you.”

“I’m waiting.” You sigh and she flushes at your bluntness. You were so straight forward! She felt her palms sweat and her eyes harden as they stared at you.

You were floating a few inches from the carpet, red tie askew and a bored expression gracing your cold features. As you sighed again, she caught a glimpse of fangs peeking out. She gulped, standing her ground.

“It’s clear that we need to address this… this competition! I… I don’t want to fight you over this anymore. It’s exhausting and I mean it when I say that I don’t wish to antagonize you.” Ochako explains, taking in a deep breath and letting out as her pink cheeks brightened. “But the feelings I have for that boy, for Deku. They’re real, and I really like him, L/N. I haven’t told him about my feelings because It will only distract us both from our goals right now, but now that you’re in the picture, I worry.”

You narrowed your eyes, pointed ears taking in every infuriating word as they left the small girl in front of you. She speaks as if she’s already won, like no matter what happens Midoriya will ultimately choose her over you and that burns. Not because it isn’t true, which it isn’t! But the fact that she’s talking about him like he’s an object. Like a possession to be won over. You didn’t give a damn how she felt about Midoriya. No one should think that just because they like someone and they don’t want to make moves, that their loved one is theirs.

“I’d like to settle this as civil as possible. I want you to stop pursuing Deku, please, I want this chance. I don’t want him to be taken from me. I won’t have any hard feeli—”

You lost it.

“Stop it! Midoriya is a person! He isn’t some object you can claim or own, he is someone with feelings and opinions! You may like him, but that doesn’t give you the right to go around telling everyone ‘he’s mine please disregard your feelings because I deserve him more than you!’” You interjected with a burning fiery passion in your voice as you spoke, the emotion in your voice more lively than it’s been when you weren’t singing.

Ochako gaped at you, her wide brown eyes staring at you as you got in her face. Serves her right for thinking that you’d just submit like that.

“I’m in love with Midoriya, and I don’t want to fight for him like some dog toy! How dare you disregard my feelings like just because you have a crush on him that they aren’t real. It’s unfair for you to lay claim on him, it’s his choice. And if that choice is you, fine! But I won’t back down just because you want me to.” You held her shocked gaze with your own blazingly determined one, letting her know just how serious you were.

After a minute of catching your breath, both your gaze and voice softened.

“I love him too, Ochako. And if I have a chance with him, I want to take it. I hope you got what you wanted, now I’m leaving. I’m not going to play this childish game with you anymore.”

And with that you turned in mid-air and floated out of the other girl’s dorm room, heading towards your own to sing your fucking heart out until you feel better.

. . . Once you’d stopped abusing your vocal cords, taped up your bleeding fingers—because you were too upset to even think about a pick—and received a nervous complaint from one of your neighbors you picked up your phone and typed out a bold text to Midoriya.

Messages (8:15 PM)

You: Can I come over? I need to calm down before I do something stupid. Midoriya-chan: Of course! Is something wrong? Are you ok? You: I’ll tell you when I get therw You: *there

You tossed your phone onto your bed and left your dorm with a start, flying in hopes to get there quicker. When the freckled boy opened the door he immediately tugged you inside. If Mr. Aizawa knew he had a girl in his room at night he’d really be in trouble.

When you meet his eyes your resolve deteriorates. Your feet meet the floor’s surface and you slump down onto his bed.

“W-what’s going on? Are you alright, what happened?” Izuku asked you, looking incredibly worried as he sits down beside you, taking in your expression, deep in thought.

Your eyes shift to the side to peer at him through your lashes. Was it shallow to do this? You weren’t lying when you had said you needed to calm down before you ended up binge drinking from some unsuspecting classmate. Which, wouldn’t be necessarily a good look on your record. Without realizing it, your eyes darted to his neck and before you knew it, you were blatantly staring. You briefly wondered what he’d taste like.

“Can I… can I tell you something? And I need you to take me seriously because I… because I’m not one to lie. It’s exhausting” You chuckled though it was a nervous meek sound that you hadn’t ever made before.

Izuku blinked, trying not to stare too much at your sudden insecurity. It was uncharacteristic. You were always so guarded, getting angry when others worried about you and denying it till the end when you were asked if you were alright on particularly hard days. He wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to get closer to you, and it looked like you needed him to listen right now.

“Of course, we’re friends, right? You can tell me anything.”

“I—” You took in a deep breath despite your lungs not requiring it and instantly regretted it because the sudden rush of air with so little blood in your system made your head spin. You hunched over as nausea twisted your stomach in knots, and you swayed as you felt the dizziness increase with movement. “Oh… shit…”

You don’t realize that you were tipping forward until Izuku’s hands grab your shoulders to steady you. You heard him talking to you but couldn’t process any of what he was saying.

“Y/N? Are you okay!? Wh-what’s going on, are you sick?”

“Ah, Deku don’t shout. I’m just… thirsty.”

“Thirsty? Are you dehydrated? Do you need a glass of water? I can go get one for you if you need me t—”

“I’m a vampire, Deku.” You interrupt flatly, any and all enthusiasm drained from your tone from the sheer exhaustion. “May come to you as a surprise but I drink blood.”

He clammed up, mentally kicking himself for being such an idiot. ‘Sure offer the vampire a glass of water, Deku.’ Midoriya frowned, he didn’t like seeing you this, you looked so tired, so miserable. A stray thought made his cheeks flush. Would it… would it be rude to offer his own blood? He couldn’t help his morbid curiosity, his concern for your well-being mixed with his growing feelings for you and encouraged him to take a risk.

“Y-you can b-bite me if you need to, o-of course that’s only if you want to! I-I don’t know if th-that’s some sort of taboo and I’m being weird, but I r-really wouldn’t mind. I don’t know if you only drink certain types of blood, but surely any blood works, right? I mean I’m not a vampire so I can’t possibly know but I’m just saying if you…” You lost him after that, blinking at the boy as he rambled on and on. In your discombobulated daze, you couldn’t help but stare as Deku talked, his eyes glimmering with interest and admiration as he rattled on about quirks and vampires, and you believe he mentioned a sacrificial ritual at one point but all you could think about was the way his eyes caught the light.

Your eyes skimmed over the expanse of his gentle features, counting the freckles scattered across his round cheeks and watching his green curls bob up in down as he moved. Your eyes centered on his neck and everything around you became a blur, you felt your mouth water and your tongue drag over your bottom lip, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of your face as you lost yourself to thoughts of your fangs piercing into flesh. You wondered again what he would taste like. Would he be tangy? Or Sweet? Perhaps something tame or spicy?

Izuku stopped droning when he peeked over at you, his rant coming to an abrupt halt when he noticed the intense stare you were giving him. His thin brows knit together and he gulped when he followed your gaze to his throat, your eyes widened and shimmered slightly as his adam’s apple rippled beneath the pale skin of his neck. Izuku felt the heat rise to his face, painting his cheekbones with a muted pink as you finally met his eyes. You coughed and jerked back, not realizing you had started leaning in until you were inches away from his face.

“I’m not going to bite you, Izuku.” You mumbled, the blood concentrating behind your cold cheeks allowing the tiniest hint of a blush to form.

“Why not? You can’t have much more in you based on how tired you are, what will you be like tomorrow? How will you train if you can’t even move?” Midoriya argued a fire in his eyes lit by his concern for you. Why wouldn’t you let him help you? Did you not trust him enough? He felt hurt by the possibility.

“I don’t want to hurt you, idiot!” You blurted, nearly doubling over and off the bed when you are overcome with a wave of nausea. You fall right into his arms, successfully knocking you both over. When you recover from your dizziness you realize with a start that you are laying on top of a worried Midoriya.

“You won’t… hurt me.” Izuku mutters, his jade eyes staring into yours with a look you can’t quite place. Your breath hitches when he tilts his head back and slightly to the side, baring his neck to you. Didn’t he see how hard it was to resist when you were this thirsty? Was he trying to get himself drained?! One of his hands moves to grasp yours and your jaw goes slack. “It’s okay, I promise. I can take it. As long as I can help you.”

Your eyes soften and you let out a deep sigh, shifting on top of him to lay more comfortably. He was just too tempting, and you were in a very, very weak state. You couldn’t resist.

“Fine, but once I do this I’m not going to stop suddenly if you have second thoughts. You have to be sure.” You smoothed a hand over the arch of his throat, a lover’s caress to anyone else, but a search for a good spot to enter for a vampire. Izuku gulped, feeling his heart start to race as you touched him. He steeled his gaze and nodded firmly. “Well, then… all I need you to do is relax.”

You leaned in to search for a spot with good circulation with your tongue this time, feeling the boy freeze up and squeak beneath you. You cupped his jaw and tilted his head further away so you had better access. Unbeknownst to you, the spot you had picked was particularly sensitive and the trembling gasps he let out were not out of fear but approval. Your fangs brushed against the curve of his neck, feeling his entire body shiver underneath yours. And when your fangs finally sunk into the side of his neck, you didn’t expect the noise that escaped him.

Izuku slapped a hand over his mouth, in disbelief of the soft moan that had just slipped out. You decide to ignore it the moment his blood meets your tongue, you gripped him a bit tighter, shuddering at the almost sickeningly sweet taste of his blood. You drank enthusiastically, in your own little world as Izuku struggled with both his vocal cords and his conflicting thoughts.

He had so wholely expected it to hurt, or at the very least uncomfortable. But it wasn’t painful at all! He was worried over nothing. Not only that, but the whole prospect of you on top of him, pressed so intimately to him as you feasted on his blood, your fingers lightly stroking his cheek… It made him feel closer to you somehow. And when you finally parted from the crook of his neck, he flinched slightly when your fangs slid from the holes now left behind from your bite. You pulled away, moving to sit on top of him as you licked the excess from your lips with a dreamy smile.

“You’re so sweet, I almost couldn’t stop myself there. Thank you for being so calm.” You seemed to be full of energy now, eyes bright and your face looking much healthier. But you seemed a lot softer than normal, this is the most gentle he’s ever seen you as you smiled and expressed your gratitude.

“I… wouldn’t mind if you did it again sometime…” Izuku muttered with a deep blush, avoiding your eyes as your own widened.

“If you’re sure.” You didn’t have the strength to deny how eager his confession made you for next time. Even if you didn’t get the chance to confess your feelings as you had wanted, but you hoped that this understanding between you would give you another chance.

#izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #deku x reader #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #midoriya #deku #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha #mha #bnha fanfic #vampire!reader #blood

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crowleyellestair · 5 years ago

Note

Love your work! Would you mind doing the wolves (maybe sans geralt bc you’ve already done him) taking care of a reader with a migraine?

AN/// Sorry for the delay. Work and life have been crushing, but here it is!!! I really hope you like it :) Again, very sorry for the wait. I hope you’re not undergoing a migraine while reading. Much love <3

//L//

There wasn’t much that bugged Y/n. She was strong willed and had a high tolerance for anything, thus being able to endure the force that is Lambert. She often laughed when people claimed Jaskier to be the most outspoken and dramatic, knowing the youngest witcher held that crown. Fights happened between the two and often, but they both never had any true venom behind their words. While Y/n was like most, and gave Lambert a firm hand, the grip she had was gentle, knowing that behind that angry exterior was a man who simply sought happiness and the simpler things in life. She didn’t pull any punches when joking or handling the man, but endearments and affection were also paid to him in full, if not more so.

Migraines were commonplace for Y/n, though she had medication to subdue them quickly and with ease. In Oxenfurt, she had befriended a medical student, the two of them experimenting with things to help Y/n’s headaches. It seemed dangerous, and some things they had tried could be considered that, but in the end, they found the perfect mix. Though, her medical friend stayed near Novigrad, and Y/n was currently galivanting with Lambert in the south.

It started with the pressure behind her nose, building and spreading to her cheeks and behind her eyes. She swore to whatever force it was that felt like it was trying to push the eyes out of her sockets. The heels of her hands had pressed against them, but even her eyebrows were sensitive, the hairs irritating as they moved, follicles tiny pinpricks. It spread to her temples and her skin felt tight by her ears. Ringing was heard at every noise around her. Her body felt sore as she sat up in the bedroll pile, they often created by pushing the two traveler’s beds together with the effect of a larger one to snuggle. Lambert wouldn’t admit it or bring it up, but if their cuddling was ever mentioned or joked about, the man would brag about his spooning and comfort skills.

Her hips popped as she brought her knees to her chest, and the ache rippled throughout the rest of her body. Her eyes were squinting as they gazed over the view. It was hot the previous night, so the two found a cave somewhat higher in the mountain rage they were crossing, and the view was gorgeous. She could see a crystal-clear stream running through sparse trees that grew throughout the valley below. Y/n noticed Lambert was gone, and she sighed her thanks to anyone listening to her thoughts, slowly leaning over to blindly sift through her bags, looking for water. A loud noise just outside of the cave’s mouth made her cringe and ball herself up for a moment. Ringing followed, as well as drums pounding behind her eyes and through her temples. A softer sound was heard a second later, followed by a familiar, proud, booming voice.

“Even in the steepest fucking mountain side we could have camped in, we have warm breakfast! Bon appe… you know.” Lambert’s rare forgetfulness would have been funny if his voice didn’t bounce off the walls, dropping on her eardrums like raining arrows. There was a silence that followed his statement, his hands on his hips, waiting for the retort. He squinted when he didn’t receive it, knowing full well she was awake, but went to pull the small doe into the cave. The behavior of his beloved companion set alarms off, and he was immediately on edge, though he didn’t outwardly show it. This was new territory, and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want whatever conflict he was about to face. Out of desperation, he resorted to a Vesemir impression to try and lighten the tone.

“The early bird cannot fetch the worm if it has no desire to fly. While we cannot fly, we can find other means to get the worm that other birds can’t.” At some point, a hand found his hip and a finger started to wag. His brows furrowed and he leaned over her form. His voice was normal, the edge somewhat showing. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I wish it would stop-.”

“Lambert!” She shrunk away from her own voice that echoed back to her in full force. The harshness grating on her, not wanting him to feel the anger as well. Because she was angry. Y/n didn’t know why she had to suffer through these spells of headaches, wishing life would let up a bit on its berating habits. Lambert had flinched away from her, standing once more. His cat eyes were wide, and he took a step back. The true growl that came to her while she yelled his name was something he never wished to hear from her, having heard it from so many that hurt him before.

Tears started to drop, and Y/n scrunched her eyes close as tightly as possible, trying to block out the light, but also trying to turn to the man.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I can’t… It…” Her voice was a whisper, and despite his pounding heart, he dropped to a knee in front of her. He felt like a helpless child, wanting to get back into his mother’s good graces again, but it was so much more than that. He loved Y/n with all his being, and this was something he couldn’t handle. Her anger towards him is one thing, but true distain even slightly pointed in his direction was another. Lambert would do anything to right this, despite the unfamiliar fear that gripped him. His mind shrunk into itself, ready to lash out in defense despite months of being with her and being open.

“’It’ what? What’s happening?” He matched her whisper, outstretching a hand. It never landed against her skin, despite wanting to wipe the tears away and going to what their lives were before this.

“Migraine. It’s too loud. Bright. I need a minute.” The instant relief that flooded through him almost got out of hand. He didn’t know what he expected her to say, but knowing it wasn’t life changing was a relief. He nodded, now determined and grateful for the luck that has fallen upon him. Lambert stood quickly, marching out of the cave and climbing faster than when he entered. Y/n swore to herself, angry and in pain. She didn’t mean to yell or have her anger that was pointed at her body to be pointed towards her witcher, it simply happened. More tears fell as she curled back up, rubbing her temples in vain.

Lambert landed at the mouth of the cave once more, quietly walking to his lover. He placed the daisy like flowers in her lap, Y/n having shifted into a sitting position minutes ago. Her eye peeped open in question and felt even worse about yelling.

“Lambert-.”

“Shh, I have this.” His soft, coaxing tone cut off her apologies as he found a bowl in their bags to grind the plant’s leaves. After it was successfully made into a past, he opened their food pack for the bread they had, spreading it, and smiling to the loaf. He insisted they get the onion clove loaf, as he had taste despite being a witcher. It was the same price as a plane loaf, what did she expect? He knew the deliciousness of the bread wouldn’t even out the bitterness of the plant, but it would help. Lambert plopped himself in front of her, staring intently as he held out the loaf. Y/n took it, eating it quickly and trying to steel herself from expressing the gross taste. Cat eyes bore into her frame, waiting and hoping. His hands perched on his knees, teeth worrying slightly into his bottom lip. It seemed at this point, Lambert would eradicate her migraine simply through pure will, his stare taking even Y/n aback. She stared back, never backing down from his gaze until Lambert smiled. Her brow rose in question, and his voice was full once more. “See, I told you I had it.”

Y/n took inventory of her body after not flinching away from the tone. The pain had receded, and only aches were left. It wasn’t fully gone, but the plant along with Lambert’s distracting visage had worked wonders. She smiled to him, but it dropped quickly.

“Lamb, I’m sorry.” He shook his head, smirking.

“There’s no need to be.” Despite the storm passing, he was truly scared earlier. Y/n meant too much to him to have anything go wrong. Lambert knew, however, that even if she had meant to yell at him, he would endure it. He would do anything to make it better, despite what happened to him. Y/n was worth everything and more than he had to give. He made it a habit to pick Feverfew, the plant he used, as much as possible. He always carried the paste in a vile next to his potions in the ‘chest of important things’ as he liked to call it from then on.

//E//

“Oh, sweet Melitele.” Y/n groaned as she rolled over. She found herself alone under the covers, completely pulling the sheets over her head. The only light in the room came from the candles at the desk in the corner. Eskel had the habit of waking up after a couple of hours, the time used to check the camp perimeter or inn’s hiding spots. In Kaer Morhen, the habit didn’t change, though he simply reads. His attention was brought to the bed at the sound of a pain groan and exclamation.

“Y/n?” His voice came out as a whisper, only having an idea of what was happening. She had only been sleeping lightly for as long as he left the bed, so it could have easily been frustration due to exhaustion. His suspicions where confirmed however when the only response was a breathless grunt and the furs tightening around her form. He closed the book, walking over the bowl of water they kept near the window as Y/n often woke up thirsty in the night despite his constant reminders to stay hydrated. His feet lazily shuffled to grab a small cloth, folding it and submerging it into the cold water. Eskel blew out the candles, and made his way back to the bed. The brunette sat, Y/n slowly popping her head out from under the covers and into his lap. The towel was placed on her forehead, the cold water taking her mind to the shocking feel. His large fingers gently rubbed against her temples, the pressure trying to ease the ache.

Eskel’s lover quickly lost herself, only being tied down to the earth by the legs her head rested on and the fingers at her temples. The darkness and silence, along with the cold towel brought her mind away from the pain. After a handful of moments, Eskel started to whisper, reciting Y/n’s favorite novel. Her mind had another thing to focus on, and after a long while, the pain was gone.

“Thank you. Sorry I interrupted reading time.” Eskel gave a soft smile, leaning down and placing a kiss on the damp skin after lifting the towel.

“I love you,” he spoke softly. He said it as though it was the obvious reason why he did anything, especially helping out with her migraine. She smiled back softly, knowing he could see it.

“Not as much as I love you, cutie.” He scoffed quietly at the name, rolling his eyes. It had taken years for him to finally believe her when she called him that. It used to bring pain and make his chest hurt, but now it made him feel light. It made him proud somehow. The witcher was elated to have her as his other half, all the trust he had to give lying within her frame. They had gone through a lot together, their bond becoming unbreakable. Eskel could help her migraines in his sleep and her large heart could warm him from miles away.

He tossed the towel to the dirty pile of clothes in the corner of the room as she slowly started to shift. Eskel laid back as she turned to wrap herself around him. Her arms wound under his arms, hands resting under his shoulder blades. Her legs intertwined with his and her cheek nuzzled against his own. Light kisses dusted over his entire face, starting at the bottom of his scar at his jaw. No inch of his skin was left un-kissed in thanks for helping. His hands wrapped around her lower back, squeezing her to himself. Neither fell asleep right away, simply resorting to whispering sweet nothings to the other.

//V//

Vesemir didn’t have many opportunities to be what he always wanted. Despite his lectures to the boys, telling them to never have a family or hope to be a parent, the old witcher always wanted to be a father. He had regrets, and one major one was not doting on his pups like he had wanted to when they were younger. But things were different now, and he could do what he liked, though they were too old to want what he wanted to give. Then Y/n came along. Geralt had a habit of bringing friends along to the keep, and no one ever refused the company, secretly wanting friendly faces, even if they belonged to a sorceress. Y/n wasn’t such entity, being merely a human, which allowed him to dote.

It was the small things that he allowed himself to do. He tried to keep his caring under lock and key, giving her just as many chores and rules as the other. The old witcher showed through giving her an extra sticky bun or lighting the only scented candle they had in the hot spring before she had her time alone in the pool. An extra fur blanket was left on her bed and the hearth in her room was always lit as she retired for the light, Vesemir lighting it as he passed to his own room.

They weren’t grandiose actions, but the hugs she graced him in thanks or the bright smiles he received made him aware how appreciated it was. And that made his old heart swell, knowing he is that figure he always wanted to be. Of course, he does the same for his sons, just in altered ways he knows they’ll appreciate more and there’s little outward thanks in return.

His parental need went into overdrive when one morning she padded down to the main hall, completely a mess. Usually, she would be completely ready for the day, up when the wolves woke, a bright smile gracing everyone. This morning, however, she had the extra fur wrapped tightly around herself. It was late in the morning, and he had waited in the hall for her, sending the boys out training already. The bags under her eyes made her whole visage look sunken and she squinted anytime she stepped out of the shadows. Vesemir met her in the shadows, his hand barely brushing her back.

“What’s wrong?” She blinked up at him, eyes droopy from exhaustion.

“Um,” her voice cracked loudly, and she flinched. “Headache.” The witcher acknowledged with a hum, turning her and leading her to the kitchen. There was only one window, and he sat her down at the end of the workspace where the light didn’t really touch. Water appeared in front of her and his voice softly drifted to her.

“You need to stay hydrated.” Y/n nodded, grabbing the cup and drinking half of its contents. There was quiet shuffling coming from the other end of the kitchen, Vesemir’s eyes frequently watching the woman. Her figure was slumped over, taking deep breaths and hands rubbing her eyes and temples. Sympathy ran through his veins, his need to help and care taking over. While he wouldn’t usually make a different meal than the food he had already prepared, he assumed this was an okay time to bend the rules. And no one was around to see it anyways.

Milk was pulled, along with oats, cinnamon, brown sugar and almonds. A pot with the milk started to boil as he tried to crush the almonds into smaller pieces as quietly as possible. The oats went into the pot, as well as the almonds. Soon, the cinnamon and sugar were dumped into a bowl with the oats and stirred, gently placed in front of Y/n’s sagging figure. He poured more water into the now empty cup, his spare hand gently placing itself on her head, letting it lightly run down her hair. He knew it was something really only done to comfort or praise a small child, but he couldn’t help himself. His ears picked up a small thank you, and he left her to watch over training. Once that was over, he made sure to check on her in her room, bringing in a small lavender plant he re potted, knowing the scent helped such things. More water was also brought, and he was relieved and content to see her in a deep sleep, a small smile on her face.

#witcher x reader #witcher imagine #witcher lambert #lambert x reader #witcher lambert x reader #lambert imagine #eskel x reader #eskel imagine #papa vesemir #geralt imagine

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westershiresauce · 4 years ago

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Headcanon: Deus Ex Scuba Gear

Note: Spoilers for Bly Manor.

So, here is my Bly Manor/Supergirl crossover crackfic headcanon where Kara is Dani and her ex Mike gets killed by a truck when he walks into traffic after Kara comes out to him and breaks off their relationship.

“Mike, I think I’m gay,” the blonde whispers, too ashamed to speak any louder. The man next to her tenses slightly before a look of relief washes over him.

“Oh thank God,” he says, and smiles at a confused Kara.

“What? You’re okay with this?” Mike shrugs and shoots the woman his frustratingly disarming grin.

“I mean, am I glad I’m being dumped? No. Am I relieved that the reason is you aren’t into guys? Kind of.” Kara wrinkles her brows in confusion and he continues.

“I mean, I know I’m hot.” Mike grins again and winks at the blonde who purses her lips at his peacocking, “I thought maybe you were just frigid or something.”

“Mike!” Kara looks around to make sure no one is listening. Mike laughs and she shoots him a glare.

“Hey, you’re the one that decided to break my heart at the corner of a major intersection.”

He winks at her and she advances on the man, trying to shut him up. He skips away from her, ignoring the fact that he is now in the crosswalk of the intersection.

“Mike! Stop fooling around!” the blonde pleads but the man ignores her.

“Hey, were you checking out chicks while we were together?” He waggles his eyebrows and Kara balls her fists at her sides. She refuses to take the bait. The man just laughs at her silence. “Dude, you totally did. What’s your type?”

He goes quiet suddenly and his face lights up. Kara shakes her head. It is seldom a good thing when the man gets a light bulb moment.

“Hey Kara,” his face gets lecherous and Kara readies herself for some horrifying comment, “Would you let me watch?”

Kara’s face blooms red with embarrassment and anger. She steps closer to jab her finger against the man’s face and get her point across. However, Mike anticipates this and he takes another step back, grin still in place even as a truck barrels into his body. Kara stares in shock, midstep and with her finger still in the air as Mike is flung at least twenty feet down the street. The smell of burning rubber as the truck attempts to stop and the blaring sound of a horn being pressed much too late fill her senses.

Kara: “No, Mike, not gay as in happy. Good lord, dude!”

Kara is at the hospital when Mike is pronounced dead. Rhea never really liked her so she leaves for her apartment, still shaken but confused about how she feels about what happened. On the one hand she feels responsible for what happened, but on the other hand, she almost feels relieved. Until, that is, she goes to wash her hands in the bathroom and sees Mike standing behind her. She screams and when she turns around, he is gone. It isn’t until a few days later that she hears someone walking around her apartment that she realizes what happened. She grabs her trusty bat and walks out, expecting some coke addict rifling through her bookshelves but instead sees Mike, pawing at her bookcase. He grunts in frustration when his hand goes through a book but cheers when he manages to knock one onto the floor. Kara drops the bat in shock and Mike turns around, grins wide and puts a hand up in a peace sign, just like when he was alive.

Mike: “I’m still here, bro!”

Turns out Mike is tethered to Kara and it is a horrible, cruel curse. He is both the best and worst wingman and Kara is still not convinced he doesn’t try to peek when she is getting dressed or showering but he also helps her learn to be more confident. All his shameless arrogance makes him a great cheerleader, at least once they talk about some ground rules.

1. No creeping on Kara in the bathroom or when she is changing. Mike scoffs at this and mutters about being able to creep on hotter ladies.

2. No unsolicited advice or comments about women that Kara is not interested in pursuing a relationship with. This is added after a week of Mike making comments about women that had Kara blushing constantly, even at work.

3. No watching when Kara has a lady over. She wasn’t sure where Mike disappeared off to when she did manage to have a date come back to her place but he would always leave after shooting Kara another peace sign and telling her to “do the circle thing I showed you.”

It all hits the fan when Rhea gets wind of Kara dating women and she packs up and leaves. She does not want to deal with that fallout and she would rather get a fresh start somewhere else. Where is that where else? London, Bly Manor, American au pair, you know the rest.

Kara: “Yeah, I’m gonna take a one way and gtfo of here.”

Who are our players at Bly?

Our cook Owen Sharma is good old Jack Spheer because sometimes these things write themselves. And who is our beloved Hannah Grose? Why, Lucy Lane. Because she was too good and I always want to see more of her. Plus she can be a stern little spitfire with the kids and ghosties (The kids refer to her to as Major). She takes her fine self and daydreams about the moment that charming Jack came over to get the job as a cook, not dead, just as a useless hetero (is that a thing? It is now...) that can’t fathom for some reason that Jack is totally in love with her.

As for Rebecca Jessel and Peter Quint? Kelly Olsen (the only character with any brain cells half the time) and Andrea Rojas, our muy caliente Scotsman. Is that racist? No, but her horrendous accent might be a crime. This version has none of the controlling assholeroy of Peter and no secretly killing Rebecca. Just good old bad luck in a horror series. Andrea gets drunk and tries to dive into the lake to find the chest of loot she is convinced is down there so her and Kelly can run away to America.

Andrea: “This is a file on all the reasons you should run away from this haunted ass creepy mansion and come with me to America. Also, there is a map I drew of the lake with an X where the loot most definitely is.”

Kelly: “This is just a picture of you in lingerie and a sheet of paper you colored blue with a big red X in the middle.”

Kelly dies trying to save her when Andrea starts to get hypothermia and they both drown in the freezing lake. Because why bury your gays when you can drown them? Amiright? Who finds their bodies the next day? This leads to the following section: Next slide, please!

Who is standing in for Miles and Flora Wingrave? Why, Ruby and a tiny Nia, of course. Nia is a sweet baby angel and I want to meet her as a little sister, totally doted on by her big sister, Ruby. Nia sees Andrea and Kelly arguing like lesbians (so much hand waving and crying and angry whispering) on the far end of the lake while their blue popsicle bodies float around. Ruby and Lucy drag little Nia away from the scene.

Nia: “My giant scarf is perfectly splendid! Also, I am baby.”

Things get really spicy when Kara shows up, ghost!Mike and all. He complains about not being able to haunt the “hot chick from apartment 314” any more, but he perks up at the thought of “British broads.” Kara had hoped he was tethered to National City or something, but it appears he is linked to her. Mike is ecstatic when he finds out Bly is full of ghosts. He is always off somewhere exploring the mansion and only pops in to tell Kara snippets of Bly’s history and its many inhabitants.

Meanwhile, we get to the real star of this indulgent charade. Lena as the wonderfully fit Irish (let her have the accent!) gardener, Jaime. She is convinced Kara is a corn-fed straighty from America until Kara throws herself at her in the greenhouse because flowers turn on lesbians (see Imagine You and Me and Georgia O'Keeffe’s many works. This is sapphic lore, kids.) She opens up about Mike and Lena smooches her so she doesn’t have to listen to the hot blonde’s delusions.

Lena: “What do you mean it is too bright? What book? This is a watering can for my gardening activities. So is my fashionable, appropriately sized hat.”

Kara: *OMG she is so hot and cool, what do I do?* “Hey, do you guys do the circle thing in the UK?”

Meanwhile, things are getting interesting with Mike and the ghosts: Kelly and Andrea, newly minted Bly ghosts, explain that they are stuck on the grounds. Mike, who believes in having the freedom of “you do you,” vows to break the curse. He strikes a heroic pose that makes Andrea roll her eyes but Kelly agrees they need to find out more about the origins of the Bly Manor curse.

Flashback episode in a horrid b/w tone because I want to show this is old, okay. It’s not like we could figure it out by the clothes. Or the set dressing. Or the fact that the one of the characters died of “the lung.”

Anyway, we have our sisters, Viola and the other one. Their names don’t really matter because they are going to be the brunette one and the blonde one, played by the queen of period series: Katie McGrath.

Anger-y brunette Katie, getting her smacking hand ready.

And blonde, sad (but also evil? plot twist!) Katie, lusting after her brother in law.

And they fight over none other than Daddy Cullen, Maxwell Lorde, because look at that hair, look at all those buttons, look at that big hand! Who could resist?

The child is baby Lena being twirled by Anger-y Katie pre-“the lung” because let’s just have this turn into a black hole that destroys itself.

Baby Lena: “Swing me, mummy. Swing me with your good lungs!”

Anger-y Smack-You-Every-Time Katie: “I swung too close to the sky and now this is happening to me.”

So while Kara and Lena are christening all sorts of places at Bly (yes, even the master wing because, of course, the master wing), Mike, Andrea, and Kelly are incepting themselves into all sorts of memories and whatnot. Cue that montage!

404 ERROR. MONTAGE NOT FOUND.

Whoops, looks like we blew our budget on that black and white filter. Sorry about that.

Once the ghost trio realizes the chest in the lake doesn’t in fact hold some dragon’s hoard of gold, but the key to ending this madness, Mike pops in on Lena and Kara to bring them up to speed. Kara screams at him about the third rule while Lena tries to accept the fact that her girlfriend (yes, they are girlfriends by now, keep up) has a ghost for a best friend.

Kara makes Mike look away while her and Lena get dressed and after quite a bit of exposition, they decide to pull the chest up from the lake. Lucy and Jack have been off playing hide the croissant or whatever the straights do during their leisure time, but they quickly hop on the “break the Bly manor curse” train.

There is a fun B (C?) plot where Ruby and Nia steal Jack’s car and drive into town. No one in town cares because they are rich and all the adults at Bly are busy romancing each other and assume the girls are being odd rich kids playing somewhere in the manor.

The adults are planning how to get down to the chest without suffering Andrea and Kelly’s fate, when they find some scuba gear the kids bought on their last trip to town. It is wholly impractical but the adults shrug and accept the plot hole so they can hurry this along.

They draw straws and Kara has to dive down and tie some chains around the sunken chest. Lena jumps in front of limited edition Scuba Gear Kara to stop her but the American has to America so she dives into the freezing lake after a swoon inducing “I’ll be right back” kiss. Like, gifable on tumblr, twitter, and whatever new platform there is a hundred years from now.

Scuba Gear Kara: “Guys, I can’t see anything through this helmet. Guys?“

After a few tense moments where Anger-y Olden Time™ Katie tries to stop Kara, Mike, Andrea, and Kelly step in and use their ghost powers to keep her away from Kara. Jack uses his car to pull up the haunted chest and they pry it open with a crowbar and plenty of moxie. The screams of slap happy Katie of the past ring out around the heroes as the curse is broken. The ghosts cheer, everyone laughs nervously (they know the end is never the end in a horror story) and Kara shivers from the cold until she is next to the fire, dry and cuddled up with Lena.

As her final act of revenge, Anger-y Katie gives Kara the Lung(!) but thanks to the power of Science, our spunky American pulls through after properly completing the full course of treatment and antibiotics. This includes Lena taking sexy care of her girlfriend. *wink*

***** westershiresauce is not a medical professional and their thoughts regarding the health benefits/healing powers of a sexy nurse!Lena are not verified. Don’t take srsly. *****

Cut to, one more garden and I can retire, Lena, sitting next to an immaculate shrub, waiting for her wife Kara to bring out the tea and biscuits.

THE END!

Lena: “I swear to all that is holy, if that tea is shite, I am leaving her. It’s been like thirty years!”

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lovelahela · 5 years ago

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❛ high road ❜ ─ mother of the year.

⇢ entry for choices march challenge ! @choicesmarchchallenge

⇢ pairing: hailey young + astra young, thomas mendez x mc (hailey young)

⇢ genre: fluff, humour

⇢ prompt: high road ++ kindness

⇢ description: in which astra is paired up with ajax for a school project and seeks life lessons from her mother on how to deal with it.

⇢ word count: 1597

⇢ notes: i’m going to try my best to participate at least every other day if not every day for the rest of the month in hope of spreading positivity during these difficult times. i really do hope i'll manage to put a smile on someone's face and these dark moments just a little bit easier.

if you want to be put on my moty tag list, tell me!

❛ it's my way or the high way! ❜

❛ that... is not what i meant when i told you to take the high road, sweetie. ❜

Soft laughter and the aromatic scent that insinuated the presence of baked goods in the outdated oven filled the quaint apartment on a sunny Sunday afternoon. A brunette with a petite frame struggled against the hold of a noticeably taller and broader man wearing the goofiest grin on his handsome face. Hailey shrieked in surprise when Thomas smeared the coccoa filled batter across her rosy cheeks.

"You've crossed a line! THIS MEANS WAR!" She emitted a surprisingly powerful battlecry for such a small woman, shocking her captor into released her from his arms. He stared at her for a few seconds, dumbfounded, before he burst into laughter so genuine that Hailey's feigned angry expression softened into one of admiration and awe.

Thomas braced himself against the counter and his shoulders and entire body shook as sounds of joy interrupted the short period of silence. A small smile stretched her small, plump lips and eyes the colour of rich soil sparkled with fondness. Once his laughter died down, he coughed awkwardly upon noticing her staring and their closeness, and he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Uh — you have a pretty strong battlecry for someone so tiny." He grinned yet again, a playful glint in his steel blue-gray eyes.

Hailey whacked his shoulder jokingly. "Rude! I'm not that short, for a Korean woman."

"Emphasis on the for a Korean part." She poked his ribs, receiving a surprised yelp as a response. He raised his arms defensively. "Okay, okay, I'll stop teasing. Wouldn't wanna lose you — people of your stature are in short supply."

Hailey gasped, but couldn't fight the wide smile that practically stretched from ear to ear. "You did not!"

"You're right, I didn't." He looked at her with a wicked expression. "I wouldn't dare insult you — you're a little intimidating — and yet very good at small talk!"

She squealed in mocked offense and slapped his rather muscular arm multiple times, ignoring the fact that he showed little to no reaction to her attempted physical attacks. "You're just jealous you'd never be able to measure up to someone as amazing as me!"

Thomas cackled evilly at her choice of words. "You know what, Hailey Bear? You're right. I might need to knock myself down a few inches. Maybe lower my expectations a little bit."

At that point, she couldn't fight the giggles that bubbled out of her lips against her will. "I walked myself into that one!" Her laughter bounced off the words, chaotic and jovial, but like a melody to his ears. While he appeared distracted with her, she seized the opportunity to smear batter across his cheeks in retaliation. He gasped, pointing an accusatory finger at her.

"Traitor!" He lunged at her menacingly, and with a surprised squeal, Hailey attempted to flee from impending doom. However, he was too fast for her, and grabbed her arm with a satisfied "aha!"

Without realizing his own strength, he pulled her body up against his own, suddenly putting mere centimetres between their faces. Granted, she had to tilt her head upwards to fully look him in his widened eyes — which she realized were rather gorgeous up close. His lips were parted, shocked by the sudden turn of events, and his breathing was laboured as his heart hammered against his ribcage.

A fuzzy feeling that, as much as she hated to admit it, only ever showed up around the adorable yet dorky lawyer settled in Hailey's stomach. Blood rushed to her already reddened cheeks and ears as she tried to ignore the feeling of her chest pressed against hers. They were either too shocked to move, or they didn't want to — maybe a little bit of both.

The sound of a door being flung open snapped them back into reality, and they sprung apart from each other. The two dissolved into a fit of embarased coughs, each avoiding the other's gaze. Two small girls shuffled into the living room, oblivious to the tension between their parents. Luz, Thomas's fiesty daughter with lovely, curly hair had her arms crossed across her chest defiantly with a determined look on her adorably scrunched up face. However, Hailey's daughter Astraea, whose messy bangs shielded her eyes shamefully and gloomily, had her shoulders slumped in defeat. Hailey's motherly instincts kicked in almost immediately, completely forgetting her previous interactions with Thomas.

She rushed forward and kneeled down, gently placing her hands on her petite child's shoulders. A frown distorted her gentle features. "Hey, hey, what's wrong, sweetie?"

Though her voice was calm, it was laced with concern. Thomas furrowed his eyebrows worriedly and glanced at Luz for an explanation.

"Astra's still sad that she got partnered with that buttface August for our science project."

"Luz! Language!"

"Hey! You weren't supposed to tell!" Astraea pouted at her best friend's betrayal, bottom lip quivering inconspicuously. Hailey almost didn't notice it.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier, Rocket?" The corners of Astraea's lips quirked upwards at the use of the nickname her mother and her beloved neighbour Levi began calling her, but the smile faded as quickly as it came.

"I didn't want you to talk to the teachers, or anything. People will think I'm a snitch — and snitches get stitches," she whimpered, ashamed of keeping it a secret from her mother.

"That — that assbutt will get stitches if he doesn't watch out!" yelled Luz angrily.

Hailey bit down her laugh when Thomas choked on thin air behind her, imagining the horrified look on his face. "WHERE ARE YOU LEARNING THOSE WORDS?"

"Look, August may be a little mean — " she ignored the scoff from Luz, knowing she couldn't truly express what she thought about that little twerp " — but he wouldn't risk failing to bully you. If he tries to annoy or tease you, just take the high road. Do you know what that means?"

Astraea thought back to the time she heard her mother use a similar phrase when talking to someone on the phone, and scrunched up her face in determination with an exaggerated nod. "Yep! Thanks, mom!"

Hailey ruffled her daughter's shoulder-blade-length, jet black hair and fixed the bangs so she could see her beautiful irises, a warm brown with specks of a soft blue you could spot if you looked hard enough. After her messy divorce with her ex-husband Guy Ledford, those blue specks reminded her of his despicable eyes until Astraea made them her own.

Once the duo rushed back into Astra's bedroom, Hailey stood up and absentmindedly turned to face Thomas. Nervous butterflies ate at her insides as memories of their exchanged flooded her mind.

"I — Uh — We — "

" I mean — Um — We could — "

Upon accepting that neither of them could formulate a full, coherent sentence, they let out a single cough simultaneously and resumed their baking activities, subtly smiling to themselves despite their flaming cheeks.

The following day, Hailey drived to Bernhardt academy, anxious about seeing how Astraea handled her day with the pompous child that made her put up with incessant teasing and occasional bullying. Her blood boiled whenever she thought of him and his mother, Vanessa Blackwood, who had been throwing comments with underlying hints of racism and homophobia at her. Although his twin brother Ajax was more bearable, he was too meek.

The students began filing out of the school and ran into their parents' waiting arms. Hailey stood on her tiptoes, her eyes scanning the crowd of little ones to find her own. Finally, she spotted Astraea walking out in a fast pace, arguing with a familiar boy while clutching her books against her chest in a knuckle-whitening grip. Hailey frowned at the sight of the two bickering heatedly and waited for them to get closer to listen to their conversation. Luz and Thomas walked up beside her.

"Everything okay, Hails?" asked Thomas gently, his arm around his child's shoulder. Said child cracked her knuckles menacingly while glaring at the bully walking beside her approaching best friend. "Time to kick some butt!"

He sighed, but decided against scolding her for the time being.

"You're wrong! That would be totally uncool! We should build an airplane!" argued August relentlessly as his brother trailed behind him nervously.

Finally, Astraea whirled around and glared at him fiercly, very red-faced and teeth clenched.

"For the last time, the theme isn't aerodynamics!" The volume of her voice heightened with each uttered word, drawing the fleeting attention of near parents and children. Hailey gaped at the sight of her sweet little daughter snapping at someone, and despite the proud feeling that welled up inside of her, she warned her like any other responsible adult would do, in theory. "Astra! Inside voices!"

Even August appeared shocked at her outburst. "You can't talk to me like that!"

"Yes, I... I can!" Her voice and resolve wavered at his equally furious and intimidating gaze, worrying her mother. However, she squared her shoulders and retorted confidently. "It's... It's my way or the high way!"

No one spoke for the following seconds, unsure of what to say at her uncharacteristic choice of words. Upon processing the context behind them, Hailey snorted, earning a look of disapproval from Thomas while Luz whooped in approval at Astraea's decision to stand up for herself aggressively.

She cracked an involuntary smile, beaming proudly at her daughter. "That... is not what I meant when I told you to take the high road, sweetie."

#moty #playchoices #moty choices #choices fanfic #choicesmarchchallenge #thomas mendez #mother of the year #thomas x mc #thomas mendez x mc

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babyboy-cody · 5 years ago

Note

I LOVE THE FOURSOMEEEE alr but like what if all of the boys were out and you were at home and you were just feeling so needy you start to touch yourself thinking you can just get off real quick and they come home and they’re ALL SO ANGRY and they all fuck you roughly and they’re all over you at the same time cuz they know that overwhelms you AND YOU HAVE TO DEAL WITH ALL OF THEM BEING SO MAD like you try and get sweet jimmy to cut you a break knowing that he’s a softie but he offers no slack 🥵

(didn’t know i needed this until now,,,THANK YOU FILTHY ANON 😩🥵)

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Jim softly asks, eyes wide and worried with a small pout on his lips.

“I’ll be fine,” you laugh and hold his cheeks, gently kissing his lips to reassure him. “I’m probably gonna catch up on my shows, have some wine, take a bath.”

“Jimmy, you heard her. She’s a big girl,” Duncan teases with a grin as he slides on his coat.

“And if anything happens, she knows what to do and who to call, right?” Michael questions and stands beside you with a hand on your hip.

“I do know,” you say and look at Jim. “Now go! Have fun doing whatever it is you guys do on Friday nights.”

You kiss them all on the lips, but Jim’s lingers for a few more seconds. Duncan sighs and pulls the brunette away from you.

“Lets go, Romeo,” Duncan says and tosses you a wink.

“Have fun!” You call out with a smile and a wave as you lean against the door.

Jim sits in the backseat and offers you a pout, making you laugh softly to yourself. You blow him a kiss and watch as the car drives away. You decide in the next few hours what to do. You’re already caught up on your shows and watched the last three seasons of FRIENDS. When it started nearing 10 pm, you went into the master bathroom to start your peaceful bath. As the hot water filled the tub, you added essential oils and bath salts, a sweet rose scent filling your sinuses. You pinned your hair up and had free baby hairs framing your neck. As you submerged yourself in the bubble bath, you let out a low moan from the heat surrounding your aura.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been in the water, but it starts getting chilly and your fingers are starting to prune. You wrap yourself in a soft towel and go to the bedroom that you all share at times, although you each have your own.

A thought suddenly comes to mind. The guys have been out for nearly four hours. You’re all alone in a big house, fresh and clean from your steamy bath. A small grin etched itself on your lips as you made your way to the large wardrobe. Behind the endless amount of clothes is a tiny box that contains your most beloved object.

“Hello again, tiny friend,” you giggle quietly and hold the small vibrator in your hand.

You’d never admit it out loud, but when you’re alone for hours at a time, you get needy and have to release some building tension. With a giddy feeling forming in the pit of your stomach, you discard your towel and lay in the middle of the bed. You spread your legs wide and turn on the vibrator to a low setting. The buzzing makes you shiver with anticipation as there’s a frog in your throat. You grab one of your breasts and pinch your nipples. You let out a small moan as you settle the vibrator over your clit, slowly circling and applying the right amount of pressure.

“Yes,” you hiss and throw your head back as you clench around air. “Mmm.”

You feel your slick sliding down your ass, some pooling on the sheets under you. As you spread your thighs wider and click the small button to make the vibrations higher, you don’t hear the front door open and close. You’re so deep in your thoughts as you spread your puffy lids wider to rub the vibrator around your clit.

“Daddy,” you mewl and arch your back as more slick slides out of your cunt and drips onto the covers.

“Well, well, well,” you hear from the doorway, and you immediately open your eyes and gasp as you see Michael, Duncan, and Jim standing in the room.

You turn off the vibrator and shyly closed your legs as an embarrassed flush crosses your cheeks. You feel so exposed under their intense gaze.

“And what do you think you were doing?” Michael lowly asked as he held his arms behind his back in a dominant manner.

“Um…I was just…” you fumbled with your words as Jim shut the door and walked in between both men.

“You were just…” Duncan trailed off and slowly came around the bed, trailing a finger up your trembling thigh.

“Too needy to wait for a good dicking,” Jim chuckles darkly and stares into your wide eyes.

The wild look in his eyes has you swallowing nervously. You squirm as they all come closer to the bed. Duncan begins to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt up his arms. Michael does the same and sighs quietly in disappointment.

“What’s the one rule we have in this house, little dove?” Michael asks you with authority in his tone.

“T–To not touch myself when you’re gone,” you quietly respond and avoid their wandering eyes on your naked body.

“And what did you do when we were gone?” Duncan asks you as his hand reaches between your legs to pull your thighs apart.

You let out a small whine and look over at Jim.

“Answer the question,” Jim orders you, his voice low and dark, and it catches you off guard with how dominant he sounds.

“I–I touched myself,” you whimper and feel your eyes already clouding with unshed tears.

“Why the fuck are you crying?” Duncan laughs and lands a swift smack across your wet pussy, the slap making you finally sob and jerk away. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Michael and Duncan suddenly grab your ankles to pull you down the bed. They force your legs apart as Jim kneels between them with an innocent smile. Duncan smacks your pussy again. You cry out as tears roll down your temples. Your thighs are shaking in their grips as Jim tilts his head in mock sympathy.

“What’s wrong?” He asks in a soft voice.

“She doesn’t deserve to speak at this moment,” Michael states, eyes dark and voice low.

“What she does deserve is a nice, hard fucking for being a disobedient brat who couldn’t keep her hands away from her little cunt for only a few hours,” Duncan growls and roughly gropes your breasts.

Michael’s hand massages your inner thigh as Jim’s thumbs spread your puffy, sticky folds apart. Your body is on fire and your muscles are tense as three pairs of hands are touching you all over. Your hands are clawing at the covers as you’re suddenly stuffed full of Michael’s three fingers.

“Look at that,” Duncan hums as your cunt squeezes Michael’s long fingers. “She’s just dripping all over.”

You let out a shaky moan as Jim’s three fingers slowly slide under Michael’s. His fingers prod downwards as Michael’s curl upwards. Your mouth falls open at the doubled sensation. Your thighs threaten to close as they begin to pick up the pace.

“Keep those fucking legs open,” Duncan gravelly tells you, harshly grabbing your thigh to yank it apart.

You’re suddenly flipped onto your stomach, a large hand pushing your face into the covers as another smacks your ass so hard that it has you screaming. Another hand smacks the same spot. Then another. And another. They’re all taking turns spanking you raw. Slick is sliding down your thighs as you shake and cry out from the pain blossoming around your ass cheeks.

“Does that hurt?” Jim quietly asks as he wipes your tears.

You nod and let out a hiccup.

“Too bad,” Jim mumbles and slaps your ass so hard that you see black dots in your vision.

You feel a tongue dive between your puffy folds to slurp of any slick. There’s a hard burn forming on your thighs and you automatically know that it’s Duncan doing the assault. The burn on your lower cheeks and the burn from his beard has you mewling. Two hands slap your ass and pulls your cheeks apart. Your asshole clenches around air as you feel another tongue swipe at the puckered rim.

“Mmm!” You squeal and arch your back to push your ass further onto the mouths of Michael and Duncan.

They both pull away, and you hear low mumbling. You try to turn your head to look at them, but Jim’s hand wraps around your hair to keep you from doing so. He stares down at you with a small smirk and rubs his thumb around your swollen lips. You suckle his thumb and moan quietly as you feel a thick cock rub against your drooling cunt.

But then you feel another cock rubbing around to spread your wetness. Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to protest, but both tips are slowly pushing inside your pussy. Jim’s stuffs his cock just as you squeal, and the noise is muffled around his base. He groans and grabs the back of your head to keep you from backing up.

Michael and Duncan grab your hips on either side and slowly push their cocks further inside your pussy. The burn and agonizingly stretch has you crying around Jim’s cock. You’ve never taken two dicks in your pussy before. It’s usually one in your ass, one in your cunt, and one in your mouth. But two in the same hole? It has your eyes rolling back as you choke and try to desperately breathe around Jim.

“Dirty fucking brat has two cocks fucking her weeping cunt,” Duncan laughs and smacks your ass as he and Michael begin to fuck into you.

You couldn’t close your legs together because they’re pinning them down with their knees. Jim pounds into your mouth as your throat contracts around his thickness. You gag and choke as drool drips out of your mouth and slides down your chin.

Your body is on fire and you can’t seem to think as your brain is practically turned to mush. Your pussy burns so good that you can’t help but squeeze around the two cocks fucking you into the mattress. It hurts so good, but it seems too much.

Jim allows you to pull back, a king string of saliva connecting from your swollen lips to his dripping mushroomed head. He looks down at you with darkness in his eyes as he smacks his cock against your cheeks and lips.

“J–Jimmy!” You sob, tears rolling down your wet cheeks and disappearing under your saliva coated chin. “T–Tell them to–to slow do–down!”

“You asked for this, little girl,” he grins and bends down to grab your throat, nose brushing against yours. “It’s going to be a long night. Try to get comfortable.”

And with that, he shoves his cock back into your mouth as you get the soul fucked out of you by two glorious dicks from two gorgeous men.

#MORE FOURSOMES #yes gawd #mean!daddies #this was sooo filthy #and i fucking love it 🥴🥴😩

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suh-eng · 5 years ago

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Chapter 1. His name is Pierrot

“You never think about us! Sometimes I just don’t know why I married you, Iero!”

“God damn it, I’m working like a dog every day to earn us a living, and I only get rebukes in return!”

“Exactly! You think about your work more than you think about us!”

“Don’t you start on that!”

“Don’t you shut me out! When was the last time you talked to your son? Do you even know what’s going on in his life? What if he started smoking because of lack of his father’s attention?”

“I already have started,” Frank nearly blurted out, taking a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket when the door slammed behind his back, but he stopped himself. He loved his parents. Man, he really did, but these everyday scenes became unbearable. The morning used to start with them venting everything that they accumulated overnight on each other, and in the evening they were coming clean with everything they haven’t said in the morning. And it always was coming down to one thing: around 11 PM mom was shutting herself down in the bedroom on the second floor and crying her eyes out, and dad was lying on the small sofa in the living room with and sighing, and they both were thinking over the things that they’re going to tell each other the next day. And when there was nothing left to say, they were sniping at Frank. He loved them. Man, he really loved them, but he was looking forward to their divorce.

Frank took a first drag and looked around. He has been living in this city for two weeks now and he hasn’t seen anything further the street his house was on yet, but he already totally hated it. Because he never wanted to leave his homeland, his beloved and dearest New Jersey, where he was familiar with every alley and every trash can. Because he couldn’t give a toss about this damn Atlanta with its noise, sour looks of the passers-by and the new school. Because his parents were too selfish and they ruined his life, they took him away from the land he loved just because some kind of a family therapist claimed that the change of the scenery can help to establish happy domesticity. But nothing was established. Loud scenes, broken dishes, eyes red from crying, a miserable son.

Frank threw the cigarette butt away, got on the board and headed towards the Westlake High School, which should have become his second home for a whole year.

For the first time he found himself further than thirty feet away from the house. Passing down the streets of the new city, he couldn’t help but compare it to his home and curse the state of Georgia for the umpteenth time. He already didn’t like it there. The streets were too clean, people too dull, and the building of the school, at where he had arrived in ten minutes, too different from the one he’s used to.

Westlake High School was one of the best schools in Atlanta, that’s why they sent Frank here. But looking at all those boys in the snapback caps, girls in miniskirts and the boom box right in the middle of the schoolyard that was ready explode from the powerful hip-hop, it wasn’t easy to believe that all of Atlanta’s prodigies study here. Nervously pulling up the strap of his bag, Frank pressed his skateboard to his hip and headed to the entrance under the curious stares. He had to show up at the principal’s office before classes start.

The second he walked through the door of the new school, he heard the loud pop, shrieking girls and hollow noise of laughter and whistling from the outside. He then looked behind and saw two swearing high-school girls, from head to toe covered in something yellow and sticky, fly into the school at a crazy speed. Making the same loud and indecent noise, they hid behind the door of the ladies’ room, slamming it very hard, and people from the outside were still laughing. “They’re all psychos here,” thought Frank, and nervously looking around, he went right down the hall in search of the principal’s office.

Apparently, the school of psychos was run by the short man, not young, but not old yet, wearing terracotta suit. He met Frank while sitting in his leather chair and looking through papers, with glasses on the bridge of his nose and black scruffy hair. When he saw someone came in, he politely put everything away and smiled graciously, suggesting him to take a sit with a gesture.

“So, Mr. Iero, you come from New Jersey, right?” he said quite friendly, opening Frank’s file.

“Yes, sir,” Frank answered with the same politeness.

“Do you like it here?”

“Yes, sir,” totally lied Frank.

“You have a really good school record. Simply excellent,” said the principal, smile growing wider.

“Yes. I want to apply to a medical college.”

“Great! We need students like you.”

With the same wide smile the principal reached into his bureau and drew a pile of papers and a lot of colorful files out of it. Frank swallowed and glanced at the principal’s table. The nameplate read that this weird funny man’s name was Mr. Goldman.

“Here! Found it!” cheerfully proclaimed Mr. Goldman, picking a sheet of paper from the pile. “Your schedule, Mr. Iero. Try not to get lost in the classrooms,” he giggled joyously.

“Yes, sir.”

“I hope, Mr. Iero, we are not going to have any problems,” the principal’s face instantly became serious, he propped his glasses on his nose with a finger, and now there wasn’t a trace of the funny man wearing a funny suit. “Our school has a Charter that should be upheld by every student. You are no exclusion. You seem to me a pleasant enough young man, please, don’t ruin this impression.”

Frank was getting a little anxious.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Mr. Goldman took on the guise of the funniest and merriest person Frank has ever seen back, and his glasses dropped on the bridge of his nose again. “I’m very glad we had an understanding. You can go, the classes are starting soon. Goodbye, Mr. Iero.”

“Yes, sir, thank you.”

Frank rose to his feet and walked out of the principal’s office. He liked this man. He was quite funny and kind, but strict and serious when it is required. It was three minutes before the bell.

However, Frank managed to find the classroom only four and a half minutes later, and that’s why when he shyly knocked in the door and walked in on stiff feet, thirty five pairs of eyes were staring at him. And the thirty sixth pair that belonged to the teacher who wasn’t very happy about him.

“Do you really think that getting late for the very first lesson here is the best way to establish yourself, Mr. EE-ero?” her voice was gritty, with an unpleasant tone of disgust.

“Actually, it’s EYE-ero,” Frank corrected her timidly, but the teacher ruthlessly cut him off, while he was mid-sentence.

“And anyway, Mr. EE-ero, why are you late?”

God alone knows how much effort Frank put to fight the temptation to take his board from the bag and punch that arrogant hag.

“It took me some time to find the classroom,” he hissed between gritted teeth and squeezing fists in the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

Everyone chuckled.

“Well, then I will give you a map. Sit down.”

“Thank you very much!” almost said Frank, but he held back.

In the class, there were a lot of empty seats, but the looks of other students were making it very clear that Frank wasn’t very welcome. That’s why he had to sit on the single lonely chair in the back of the class right next to the wall. “Fucking jerks,” Frank thought, when he looked at satisfied faces of his new classmates, and the memories of his old friends, so kind and funny, that have been left in New Jersey slipped into his head, making his heart squeeze from the unbearable sadness. He shouldn’t have sat there on this chair, alone, at the back of the class! He should have been taking notes after Dr. Byde, sitting behind his old painted desk, and then, after the lessons, he should’ve been riding to the skateboard park racing the dearest people he had. But all nostalgic thoughts had to be interrupted because the teacher began explaining the topic, and Frank diligently began writing down every word because he needed the highest scores in order to go to the university.

That’s how two first lessons went by. Frank scribbled, memorized, and tried his best ignoring the fact that his classmates were constantly staring at him. He was very angry and he wanted to run back to his dusty New Jersey so bad, that honestly, he couldn’t help but begin thinking everyone here in Westlake High was completely insane, and when a bright-orange ball flew in through the window and shattered the glass, he became convinced they all were psychos here.

Four lessons later, Frank felt his stomach has stuck to his back, and although he was still disoriented in that huge school, he went looking for the cafeteria. It was quite crowded here, that is why after standing a few long minutes in the line he finally bought a tiny sandwich and a juice pack and headed towards the little empty table near the window. And the second he landed his butt on the chair, a piece of oatmeal goop flew just above him, a couple inches away from his head. A piece of cereal. Like, the flying cereal, you know. Someone shouted behind him, and an impressive piece of the cereal smashed into the wall with a loud squish and then slowly dripped into an ugly puddle. “Psychos, fucking psychos!” thought Frank, grabbing his lunch and running away from the cafeteria with, you know, the flying oatmeal!

Barely sitting through the last two lessons, which he wanted to escape so much, Frank was so happy going outside and taking a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket. He really wanted to go home.

Once the tip of his cigarette was lit, he heard a bit gruff voice of a girl from behind.

“You got a light?”

Frank turned around and saw his new classmate standing in front of him. She was a diminutive brunette with her hair dyed black, and she wore a really short skirt.

“Yeah, here,” he handed her a lighter and took a first drag.

“Thanks, Frank,” she said, returning a lighter and sweetly taking a puff too.

Frank looked at her again. Alexa, Frank thought that’s her name was, was quite a nice girl, as nice as a girl in big heavy military boots with a cigarette in her hand can be.

“You are Alexa, right?” asked Frank to break the silence.

“Yeah,” the girl shook her head. “What you think? Do you like it here?”

“No,” Frank said honestly. “You all are psychos here. I want to go home.”

Alexa shook the ashes off to the ground.

“And where are you from?”

“I’m from New Jersey.”

“And why psychos?” she laughed meekly, making a sly face.

Suddenly, Iero became overwhelmed by a wave of confused resentment.

“Because this morning I saw two yellow sticky girls running into the restroom, because a big orange ball broke a window in the hall, because I was nearly killed by an oatmeal missile, that’s why!” he told off, throwing a cigarette into the puddle and putting his hands in his pockets.

This time, Alexa glinted excitedly with a loud laughter, clutching her stomach and leaving Frank confused, well, because the flying oatmeal is so fucking hilarious!

“That’s just a normal reaction for all newcomers,” she said, wiping the tears of laughter. “This is terribly funny,” she laughed again.

“Really? And how often do you throw oatmeal at each other?”

A gaggle of boys passed by, and Frank felt a weight of the hostile gazes and grins with his whole body.

“No, not really,” said Alexa. “And it’s not us. It’s Pierrot.”

“Pierrot?” Frank repeated, baffled.

“Yes, Pierrot,” the girl said softly. “Wacky Pierrot.”

“Who in the hell’s that?”

Alexa smiled again, a hint of hostility showed on her young face.

“Well, he’s the real freak. That was his job with the broken window, and a bomb with the yellow paint too, and that’s him who is throwing the oatmeal. He’s crazy. And we call him Pierrot because he reminds of a wacky pale-faced doll. I’m sure you’ll meet him. He’s in our year.”

“Now we’re going to meet some weird Pantaloon’s puppet,” Frank said, looking tired, than he turned around and headed home, where another load of scenes and homework have been waiting for him.

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#fanfic #fanfiction #frerard #frerard fanfiction #frerard fanfic #frank iero #gerard way #frank iero x gerard way #frank x gerard #mcr #mcr fandom #mcr fanfiction #gerard way fanfic #frank iero fanfiction

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trollhuntersstuff · 5 years ago

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"Hatchlings"

Please Note; This is an Au based around if Ceban and Früll had, at least, one child before Früll's death. No clue what to call it yet.

It's the off 'clicking' noises that capture the river-troll changeling's attention, bringing it to the nesting area that both he and his beloved had set up for their egg. Ceb blinks, at first he doesn't comprehend the noise, and when everything clicks the freckled brunette starts tripping over himself to get to it.

"Früll!!!" He turns his head to shout for his mate, his voice shrill, excited, and echoing. A second later there's a loud crashing sound, followed closely behind by the sharp noise of breaking glass. Then the angry shouts of trolls, but Ceb barely heard any of it.

His attention is fully on the noise going on inside that large obsidian colored egg. The clatter going on inside the oval object is all the changeling can see and hear. He never even notices his beloved until Früll's large hand is on his shoulder.

"What's the matter!? Are you alright!?!?" The mountain troll asks in a frantic tone.

"Is it the—..." His panicked voice dies, awe immediately taking it's place as he watches how the little egg trembles, and the little outer cracks that seem to grow with every twitch. Later, Früll will deny ever running over the four trolls he'd been talking to, and smashing those two tables that apparently had a bunch of little battle figurines sitting on them, and how he practically trampled Kodanth. All just to get to his beloved as fast as he possibly could.

Right now, he's focused on the little set of horns steadily forcing themselves through the stone shell's fragile surface. Followed shortly after by the sounds of little chitters and squeaks, as a tiny head of black fluff pokes it's way out of a big enough opening. Früll is quick to catch the tiny whelp as the egg rolls over, shattering into pieces as he holds the little one up to his face for examination. The wide grin on his face is bright enough to rival the one the mountain troll held when Ceb had laid their egg.

"Hi..." He whispers softly to the tiny cub that fits perfectly into the palms of his hands. She gives a weak little squeal, and licks her father's nose.

"Hi, my little warrior." Früll coos, gently running a finger over her soft obsidian hair. In response the little changeling curls closer, tucking herself into her father's scraggly braided beard.

She looks like him. Her horn sets are the same, as well as a puff of unruly dark hair, but she also holds Ceb's lovely snow colored freckles, and his sharp claws. And the mountain troll is certain that when her eyes open, they'll be the same emerald gold color as her Papa's. Ceb reaches up to gently pick up the little whelp, holding her close to his chest with teary eyes, as he smiles brightly up at his beloved.

"Kovi," The general purrs while he pulls his mate and child close to him.

"I can't wait to teach her how to boil skulls!" Früll giddily nuzzles the smaller troll with a wide smile.

"I gotta spread the word." He announces proudly before running out of the tent.

"IT HAPPENED!!!! SHE'S HERE!!!" Ceb chuckled at his mate's shouts, Kovi yawns and curls up closer to her papa.

"I'VE GOT A LITTLE GIRL!!!!!!"

#Früll #Ceb #Kovi #You had better believe Früll is going to show his kid to everyons #ESPECIALLY GUNMAR

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sunshineandfangs · 6 years ago

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Cartref Enaid Mini Sequel

I’m sorry Tumblr gave you such a hard time, but I did receive your ask in the end! Also, apologies for the brief radio silence, I was in the Adirondacks over the weekend. My delay since then...ah totally my own procrastination lol.

Mini-sequel to Sol & Viento (speed boat racing) can be found here. Mini-sequel to Cartref Enaid below. Yes, I played around with events a bit for the increased Drama™ Apologies for the lack of smut. It’s decently long though for a mini! It’s honestly not really a mini.

Ping: @scarletwidow-shipper

---

Caroline laid in the grass beneath her tree, feeling the warm rays of the sun on her naked skin. She still wasn’t quite sure how such a tiny town had so much drama occurring in it. The creation of a Hybrid, the breaking of his curse, the birth of a new lineage.

And that wasn’t even touching on yesterday’s events. The awakening of the entire so-called Original Family. Six old vampires and an old witch all inhabiting one town.

The infant Bennett certainly played with fire.

An amused sounding croak disrupted her thoughts, her only warning before a piece of high-quality cardstock fell point first onto her bare nipple. The blonde cracked an eye open to level a disgruntled glare at her familiar, the minor trick rather typical of the raven when the mood struck.

She rubbed her skin, the sensation more uncomfortable than painful, before flipping the card around deftly. Her eyebrow rose.

Branwen was all but cackling from her branch perch.

Please Join The Mikaelson Family This Evening At Seven O’Clock For Dancing, Cocktails & Celebration

And on the backside:

Save me a dance? Fondly, Klaus

I shall find the finest of branches to inhabit in order to bare witness to what shall surely be historical events.

Caroline didn’t bother to reply, sensing that, teasing aside, this ball would indeed be the catalyst for something potentially world-altering. The last time so much magic gathered in one place, the Children of the Blood were born.

---

Klaus’ smirk was wooden, only a tiny fraction of his attention on the human chattering away in his ear. His siblings, even Finn, were putting on a convincing show of casual ease. But he knew all of them were tracking Mikael’s and Esther’s movements across the room.

A thousand years of habit and instinct were roiling beneath his façade, screaming to flee or fight. To tear his dear Mother’s heart out for the second time. To throw every one of the clueless humans in Mikael’s path and try his damndest to end things once and for all. To-

He and and six other ancient creatures pivoted slightly as an eighth stepped into the room.

In the privacy of his own thoughts, Klaus could admit that it was a gamble to invite the Fae. Their actions and motives tended to be inscrutable, and she may just be his ruin.

As he cut through the crowd toward her, a resplendent figure clad in silken ocean waves and moonlight, he made a calculated bet that her uncharacteristic generosity towards him would win out. But if nothing else her mere presence would throw a wrench in Esther’s plans.

---

Caroline felt several pairs of eyes shift towards her. Seven were wary, one was angry, one was confused, and the rest were gawking humans, mildly glamoured by the hint of her true nature.

She held out her gloved hand as the Hybrid stopped in front of her, accepting the kiss he pressed to her knuckles.

“Hello, Klaus,” she greeted with a slight nod.

“Good evening,” he returned carefully. Some of her amusement likely played across her face. What a stark contrast, this wary politeness to his earlier confidence.

Curls tickled her bare shoulders as she cocked her head a fraction, eyes darting from Klaus to the other ancients in the room. She looked back. Her silver-blue eyes met and held his ocean-blue ones. “You may call me Caroline.”

“Well met, Caroline,” he uttered, shifting to offer her his arm. She took it and he gestured toward the crowded room. “Shall we, then?”

The two wove their way through the throngs of people, even as Caroline flicked her gaze upward and slowed her steps.

“I do believe you are about to be called away.”

Klaus followed her gaze.

---

His elder brother looked a bit tense, indiscernible to the humans, but the rigid line of his shoulders stood out to those that had known him for centuries.

“If everyone could gather, please.”

Klaus’ eyes traced over the similarly uncomfortable forms of his siblings, reluctantly moving toward the staircase himself to take his place.

He spared a moment to eye Mikael. The man’s malevolent gaze was already trained on him from where he descended the steps beside Esther. His suspicion only heightened as he watched her gently brush his arm, the two sharing a look before settling their eyes on the crowd below.

The wood and metal of the railing just brushed the fabric of his pant leg. This was the closest Klaus had been to Mikael in over a century. Last they met with so little space between them, his beloved horse had paid the price, its beheaded body pooling blood that seeped into both their shoes.

And before the night was through, he knew more blood would be shed. One way or another.

“Welcome, thank you for joining us...”

He tuned out his brother’s lying spiel (as if they had ever gathered together quite like this) far more interested in training his ears on the mutterings of his Doppelgänger and her self-proclaimed protectors.

Fortunately, the three took little care with where they spoke, and unsurprisingly revealed that Esther (and Mikael) well deserved his continued scrutiny. Unfortunately, his parents were far more discerning, the two vanishing upstairs behind a wall of burning sage.

As people began to trickle into the ballroom, Klaus lead a random woman into a waltz. Most of his attention still focused on his Doppelgänger and her whispered plans to follow after Esther.

The woman spun away, seamlessly replaced by Caroline, her eyes half-lidded and faintly glowing as she peered at him. Her hand shifted in its place on his shoulder, a slight increase in pressure as she spoke.

“Should I be offended by this lack of attention, Klaus?”

A large portion of his regard switched to the Fae dancing with him, evaluating if she truly felt an insult. He was relieved when he realized the glimmer in her eyes was more playful than malicious, though he engaged in some flirtation all the same.

“Not at all, Caroline, surely you are the most alluring being in the room.”

Her lips quirked. She looked both pleased and exasperated by his flattery. For all that the normally hollow words rung true. And all the while the two stepped flawlessly across the ballroom, all but gliding in time with the music.

She was a wonderful dancing. And he was about to tell her so before his mood plummeted at her next words.

“Your little brunette curiosity has been spirited away.”

Klaus nearly froze as he re-extended his senses, internally cursing his distraction when he noticed the girl had indeed vanished. Locked behind sage as well, no doubt.

His fingers twitched against silken skin and fabric, forcing himself not to react as the wicked creature’s hand slid up his shoulder to his cheek. A gentle caress brushed the light scruff on his face and he looked at the blonde in his arms, gaze likely dark with his frustration.

Now her eyes held a glint of malevolence. “Do not glower at me, Niklaus Anselson. You have yet to give me cause to seek your death.” He barely twitched beneath her hands, the two of them still whirling gracefully around the room. “In fact, I rather think I shall snatch the girl myself for a few days. What intriguing sparks of magic run in her otherwise human veins.” His lips thinned as her eyes continued to sparkle with mirth. Breath washed hot and sweet across his face as she leaned closer, tilting her head slowly to whisper in his ear. Her voice nearly inaudible even to his keen senses.

“I am rather doing you a favor, Klaus. So, one last piece of advice before I go...if I were you I would consume nothing that I did not witness from source to tongue.”

She slowly pulled back from his lax grip, her scent swirling around him. Petal soft skin brushing against him.

“Until next time, Klaus,” she murmured before departing.

---

For all her taunts, Caroline was far less reluctant to help the Hybrid than she made it seem. Something about him still tugging at her curiosity. And as all her kind do she made good on her word, vanishing with the strange girl as soon as she was released from the witch’s grasp.

---

“My sons, my daughter, come forward.”

To her credit, Rebekah’s lip only trembled for a split second as the five of them fanned out around the flaming pentagram. Finn so determined only because his beloved Sage waited in the wings. Kol eager for blood and smarting at this final familial betrayal. Elijah imbued with the ferocity that arose when someone threatened his family. Their parents, at last, no longer counted among its number. And Klaus? Klaus could feel the wild baying of his wolf in his blood. Utterly despising the cause that brought him to this dark hill. Yet part of him was also delighted, each of his siblings at his side, united.

Esther and Mikael regarded them all with cold eyes.

Elijah shifted a fraction. “Whatever you think of us, killing your own children will be an atrocity.”

“My only regret is that I did not let you die a thousand years ago.”

Rebekah minutely flinched at hearing such words from the mother she had only recently renounced. “How can you say that?! You,” her glaring eyes switched from mother to father and back again, “the both of you made us what we are!”

It was Mikael that answered this time. “And we are about to rectify that, daughter.”

She sneered. “Don’t call me that! You lost that right when you stabbed your sword through our hearts.”

“Enough,” Esther cut in. “ For a thousand years, I've been forced to watch you. Felt the pain of every victim, suffered while you shed blood. Even you, Elijah, with your claim to nobility, you're no better. All of you. You're a curse on this Earth. Stretched out over generations. If you've come to plead for your life, I'm sorry, you've wasted your time.“

Klaus felt his nails start to shift into claws. “All this talk is boring me,” he taunted. “How do you intend to end this, Esther? You failed to bind us together and you’ve only one White Oak Stake.”

He didn’t like the glee that lit in Mikael’s eyes, the calmness with which Esther replied.

“My magic combined with the Bennett bloodline will easily invoke power you cannot even imagine.”

Mikael continued where she left off. “Or perhaps you can, boy.” Their eyes locked across the flames, each imbuing equal hatred in their glares. “After all, you danced with her.”

---

Caroline felt the tugs of magic pull at her being. She could resist them if she wanted. But why would she, when it would bring her precisely where she wanted to be?

Her sunset lit tree dissolved around her. Branwen faded to shadow as she flew across the void. Caroline’s own form blurred as it crossed time and space to the site of the summons.

Around her burned a flaming pentagram. Five agitated immortals at its perimeter and two near gloating ones at its heart. Her eyes caught on Klaus’, his form beyond the two before her, his eyes colored golden with wolf and fire. There was a flicker of betrayal before it was swallowed by wrath.

The woman turned to face her, stepping closer to where Caroline stood near the ring’s edge.

“Nature’s Hand, I beseech you! Cleanse the world of this foul taint, help me undo what should have never been done!”

Rather than directly answer, the blonde slowly walked the boundary of the circle, arbitrarily coming to a stop part way around. Her back and side now mostly faced Klaus and his siblings. She settled her gaze on the man who had stood silent as his wife entreated her.

“About some things the Fae can be remarkably simple creatures, and we all love a bloody revenge story.” Behind her, Caroline could hear a sub-vocal growl. She ignored it. Her gaze shifted to the witch. “But you? A witch your age should have a far better grasp of just what Nature is. And yet all you toss around are words like ‘balance’ which you do not understand. For all that you claim guardianship over the skewed ideal.”

The air shifted around them, none of them knowing how to react to this unexpected denouncement.

And on silent wings a shadow cut a swath across moon and stars and stillness, flying through the witch before she could even take a breath to retort. As quickly as she had come, Branwen vanished.

All was still once more, people stunned, confused, the only sound the crackling of fire. And then, Esther fell. Her body crumbling to dust in an instant.

For a moment, no one knew how to react. Yet Caroline was unsurprised when Mikael lunged toward her, rage and grief painted across his face. Whatever faults and virtues created the Destroyer, the man did love his wife.

However, it was in vain. She simply flowed around him, swiping an intricately carved stake with ease, and tossed it high into the air.

“Yes, we do love a tale of vengeance,” she repeated as she faded from view, intangible as she watched them all move in a flurry of blurred limbs, intent fixed on one little stake.

She would interfere if Klaus was in true danger of perishing, but she doubted it would come to that. No, he would emerge victorious alongside his siblings. Hunt for her in the following days as she loitered around this tiny town.

Waiting for him.

---

Current and upcoming sequels here.

My poll for the initial focus of my multi-chapter is also still up here.

#Klaroline #KlarosummerBingo #Klaroline Fanfiction #Klaroline Drabbles #My Writing #Ask #Answer #Anon

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ancientbooshartifacts · 6 years ago

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Mistletoe Threeway

Author: Easilyled & Accio_arse

Year: 2008

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Howard/Dennis

“Why are you looking at me that way, Howard?” Vince was stood behind the counter of the Nabootique, leaning on it nonchalantly and picking at the voluminous sleeve of his diaphanous, vaguely ethnic smock, as if there weren’t a ball of mistletoe floating in the air above his head. “I’m not looking at you, am I?” Howard snapped mildly. “I’m looking at the thing above your head. What’s that about?” “It’s genius, isn’t it?” Vince enthused. “Basically, it’s mistletoe specially treated with anti-hairspray. The chemicals in the treated mistletoe simultaneously attract and repel the chemicals in the hairspray – sold separately – and create a sort of powerful festive force field. They’re like two magnets, yeah? Or like the moon held in the earth’s gravitational embrace.” Vince embraced the air to demonstrate, his eyes closed and his pursed-lipped face a mask of serene bliss. Howard tried to keep his own face blank, but couldn’t quite suppress a tic of a twitch affecting the entire right side of his face. He automatically swatted at it, like a fly, making Vince assume an expression of horror, which Howard feigned not to see. “And the point of that is?” he asked. Vince took his cue from Howard and ignored his friend’s symptoms of imminent mental breakdown. “What do you mean, what’s the point? It’s to fit in as much kissing during Chrimbo as possible!” “It’s called a hat and wire.” “Where’s your Vision, Howard?” “Occupied with more important things.” “Oh yeah, like what?” “Like creating an utopic society based on the model of Stationery Village. Lester Corncrake has already agreed to join.” “Lester Corncrake is a Disembodied Head.” “And so will we all be in Stationery Republic, Vince. It’s about getting past the body. Just… moving past it. Like an undertaker in the night.” “Okay, that went in so many creepy directions, I don’t even know where to begin. Anyway, the Airborne Mistletoe is part of my line.” “Your ‘line’? You have a ‘line’ now?” “’Course I do. The Vince Noir Futuristic Traditions Line.” Howard quirked an eyebrow. “That’s pretty good, actually,” he half-muttered into his mustache. “Thought so.” “It’ll never sell though,” Howard pronounced, poking the floating mistletoe experimentally with a pencil, wearing a little tight smile of triumph that was somewhat unpleasant to see. “Easy, you off-sale Scroogist. Why not? Who doesn’t like kissing?” “That much kissing? With randoms off the street? Street-randoms? The thing’s a death-magnet.” He gave it another, more aggressive poke before Vince could duck away. “Especially at this time of year. Imagine the germs!” “You imagine the germs! And touch my line again –” “Touch your what now?” “- an’ I’ll obliviate you.” “Oh yeah? That sounds serious, sir.” “Maybe it is. So you’d better just… watch yourself. In case.” Howard shook his head, arms akimbo, eyes lit up strangely as he continued to stare at Vince’s tiny holidaytastic satellite. “It’s nothing but an invitation to pneumonia.” “Well it’s definitely not an invitation to you.” “Are you sure?” “Yeah. And your poking.” “Just don’t come crying to me, squealing like a hungry piglet – “Ooooooh, where’s Mama Sow’s sweet gushing nipple –” Vince gagged audibly, which Howard ignored. “– when your wanton, derelict kissing –” “Derelict kissing!?” “- when it lands you in the hospital, with a machine, a thing of metal and… dials, doing your breathing for you.” “Slow down there, Mama Sow! Don’t start composing me eulogy yet. This is not for me, is it? I’m just using it to demonstrate.” “To demonstrate what?” “The – product!” Secretly gleeful that Vince had meandered into his trap, Howard made a sweeping gesture with his arm indicating Vince’s form, which was clearly visible (almost audible, Howard thought) in the inadequate covering of a loose smock, as flimsy as a sigh, over his clinging silver jumpsuit. “And what exactly is the product?” The door opened then with a tingle of shop-bells, heralding the arrival of a pretty young woman with a brunette fringe, in a sunshine-yellow pea coat that made Vince forget Howard’s insinuation and brighten like a child handed a toy. “Alright?” he greeted her. Howard felt a sharp twinge of anxiety in his stomach as she instantly returned Vince’s grin. But then her smile faltered. “What’s – that over your head?” Howard grinned maniacally, waiting. But Vince didn’t miss a beat – he only smiled wider. “It’s Airborne Mistletoe. Follows you wherever you go. So you don’t have to take your chances, hoping to catch your Special Someone at the right moment.” Howard’s face fell faster than a shy soufflé as he saw that the girl was charmed. “That’s so romantic!” she cried. “Romantic!” Howard thundered before he could stop himself. “Romantic is… setting a trap! Following your beloved around! Don’t worry – I mean secretly! Learning their habits, like a predator in the wild. Deciding where to plant the mistletoe. Then waiting, lurking in the shadows, for them to walk by the spot – so you can pretend it’s a coincidence. If necessary, setting up a hammock, in case you have to wait in the spot a few days, and making a small or smallish fire, to cook your omelets. THAT, you know-nothing Camden mannequins, is ROMANTIC.” Howard paused for breath, while the girl looked at him as if deciding whether to scream. Vince watched her with concern. “Don’t mind him, yeah?” he said hurriedly, coming around the counter and taking her elbow gently. “He’s – practicing a part for a play. He’s playing a rapist stalker mentalist.” He shot Howard a look that was half-exasperated, half-pleading. “Tone down the mental, would you, Hamlet? You’re scaring the customers.” “You’re in a play?” The girl looked at Howard with new interest, and palpable relief. “You’re very good!” Howard simply snarled at her, making her jump and cling to Vince, who rolled his eyes and patted her back comfortingly. “Anyway. What do you think of my invention? It’s part of my new line – Futuristic Traditions.” Lost in the warm bubbly bath of Vince’s attention, the girl had forgotten Howard and his psychotic ranting already. She giggled and replied, “Well – I’d like to try it out first, before I commit myself.” “Huh? Oh, yeah! Sure.” Vince leaned in obligingly for the kiss. Howard watched, torn between disbelief and rage, as Vince launched himself at the girl’s face, nibbling expertly at her lips. And felt himself die slightly inside as he thought he caught Vince momentarily suck on her tongue – before the little tart slid it deep in Vince’s mouth. For months now, ever since his *coughcough* 32nd *cough* birthday, Howard had secretly been telling himself that even though the rest had been a lie, a desperate manoeuvre to keep the Head Shaman from ceremoniously decapitating him – that Vince couldn’t have sucked on his tongue that way without feeling some kind of attraction – of deep, powerful, molten attraction – for Howard. But of course – that was only the naïve impression of a virgin, wasn’t it? It was just a technique – like everything Vince did. Unique and flawless and designed to maximally please. And completely impersonal. Howard often wondered if Vince got any personal pleasure out of anything he did, or if his only pleasure consisted of pleasing others. Right now, however, he was causing Howard excruciating pain as he and the girl continued to snog endlessly, relentlessly, panting and slurping away, making Howard’s skin crawl even as his stomach contracted into a ball of angry jealousy as dense as a collapsed star. He might have lost his kissing virginity that night on the roof, but he was losing his illusions only now – those precious illusions he’d always been so afraid would go swirling down the putrid urinal of experience when the rest of it went. And then, as he continued to watch avidly as if their faces were the urinal and he was trying to catch in them the last traces of his illusions as they swirled down the dirty drain (or some such confused metaphor, Howard wasn’t thinking particularly clearly) Vince snuck a glance at him out of the corner of his eye. A glance that a neutral observer might have described as “opaque,” or perhaps, at a stretch, as seductive in its heavy-lidded haziness, but that Howard, who was far from neutral, instantly read as mischievous and mocking. And reacted, with the same instantaneousity, by charging at Vince and grabbing him by the smock, but unable to gain a purchase on that wisp of smoke, took him by the throat instead, and not only broke off the endless kiss, but shook the mistletoe creation out of its hold. It dropped to the floor with a decidedly unfestive thud, inert, and Howard shook Vince like a rag-doll while the girl shrieked, and Howard laughed, awfully. And Vince choked and stared at Howard with glassy disbelieving goggle-eyes, a squeak attempting to emerge from his throat and turn into a plea, but it was too late. “It’s too late!” Howard shouted, shattering his fantasy – and also the kiss taking place in front of him. “I’ll take it,” the girl told Vince when she’d caught her breath. “50 euros,” Vince replied, looking with concern at the stockroom, where Howard had disappeared, slamming the door behind him. He was inside giving himself discreet Chinese burns. * Howard wouldn’t come out no matter how often Vince knocked on the door during the day. Vince was left to handle the pre-Christmas rush by himself. He told Vince that he was reorganizing the stockroom to make its arrangement more logical – which was actually true, and very soothing. Vince’s sales figures were so good that Naboo let him off early. They closed up the shop and had champagne, then set off for a night on the town. Vince didn’t try to get Howard to come out again – he was angry at him by now. He didn’t know what had set Howard off that way, or what right Howard had to be upset. He’s the one who’d rejected Vince’s unspoken offer to go for the Mistletoe Threeway. Just because Howard was so fastidious was no reason to hurt his friend’s feelings that way. Everything had been crap between them, anyway, ever since The Roof. Everything they usually did suddenly turned Weird. The midnight crimping grew awkward – Howard had even suggested that they each get their own bedrooms (or more precisely, that Vince move into the cupboard). He pretended it was because Vince woke him up by always coming in late, but why weren’t the snail-shell earplugs Vince had made for him (at the cost of two snails’ homes) good enough for that anymore? And when Vince tried to bring things back to normal by suggesting a bout of satsuma-throwing in their vests and pants, Howard made excuses, saying that he needed to go round to Lester Corncrake’s and feed him. Like he was a chia pet. He’d rather spend time with a blind head than with Vince these days. “He’s right,” Vince said, biting his lip. “It’s too late.” “It only two a.m.!” Bollo replied, grooving on the dancefloor, where Vince had suddenly stopped moving. “Get with it, Vince.” And began to sing, “’But if my Daddy say I fine – No, no, no!’” He grabbed Vince by his delicate wrist and pulled him in close, grinding his generous ape-hips against Vince’s slender lady-man ones. “Show-off,” Vince thought. Back at the shop, Howard had finally gained the courage to emerge from the stockroom, and had managed to exhaust himself with obsessive-compulsive rearranging to the point where he thought he might be able to sleep. As he was stumbling his way to the stairwell, a towering figure stepped out of the shadows. Howard balked, catching the menacing glint of a sword, and the duller one of a bald head, in the softly glowing fairylights. “Howard Moon,” boomed Dennis, the Head Shaman. “Where’s your little boyfriend?” “Probably at the disco, pulling,” Howard grumbled. He was in no mood to pretend to be a gayist, or even coherent. And remembering Lester Corncrake’s fate made him burn with indignation at this disgusting bully’s presence in his shop. “What do you want, sir?” To Howard’s surprise, Dennis lowered his eyes as if confused. Was that a rosy blush creeping into his cheeks, mingling with the blue and green of the fairylights? “Is the blind mental around? I feel slightly sheepish for what I did to him.” “Lester Corncrake’s Head is at home, sir, sleeping. As you should be.” Was the bloody-minded Shaman Warrior fidgeting? “Wife threw me out,” he muttered at last. “Really?” Howard replied with heavy sarcasm. “You seemed so happy together. Is your plan to crash at Naboo’s, then? He’s out with Vince – but I suppose you can get into his flat using your magic, or sword, or however you got in here.” “They left the door unlocked.” “Oh. Fair enough.” Howard made a move towards the beaded curtain that separated the shop from the corridor, but Dennis grabbed his arm. “Wait!” Howard stiffened, and closed his eyes, waiting for the blade to fall. But Dennis released him. “I’m lonely. I need someone to talk to.” “Don’t you have any friends? Never mind,” Howard answered himself. He sighed, then fetched stools for both of them. “Got anything to drink?” Dennis asked eagerly, settling himself onto a stool. Howard knew now that he wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight. * Vince tried to be quiet as he entered his and Howard’s dark bedroom. The sky was lightening outside, but the blush of the sunrise hadn’t yet reached the tops of the surrounding buildings. He stripped off his jumpsuit, sweaty from the night of dancing, and tossed it on the floor with the others, then prepared to crawl into bed carefully. Howard didn’t like being touched – except sometimes, at night, he was up for a cuddle, after a long emotional bout of crimping. But lately Vince had thought it better not to risk it. Vince shrieked as his limbs unexpectedly encountered a meaty form on his side of the bed. He disentangled himself as quickly as he could, falling onto the floor. “Vince?” On the other side of the bed – Howard’s side – someone had sat up. Vince recognized Howard’s outline. “Howard! There’s someone sleeping in our bed!” “Yeah, I know that, Baby Bear.” Suddenly it dawned on Vince what was happening. He felt a perfect fool. “Howard! Did you -?” “What?” Howard shimmied to the end of the bed and climbed off. He came towards Vince. “Keep it down,” he told him. “It’s the Head Shaman.” “Howard!” Vince shrieked. Howard reflexively grabbed the back of Vince’s head and clamped a hand over his mouth. He was crouched in front of Vince – still in his clothes, which he’d worn to bed, while Vince was sprawled on the floor, legs out in front of him, propped up by his hands, naked. They always went to bed naked, but Howard hadn’t felt that was appropriate, or in fact safe, when the drunken Head Shaman had asked if he could sleep in Howard’s bed – especially after his comments about Howard’s pumpkin ass and questions about his waxing habits. Behind Howard’s hand, muffled laughter began to emerge from Vince. Howard looked severely into his friend’s bulbous eyes, which glistened with excited mischief in the dark room. “Will you be quiet now?” Howard asked, and removed his hand, rubbing it against his trousers to take the tickle away. He didn’t really want to hear anything Vince would say, but felt that staying that way looking at each other any longer involved an obscure danger. “Howard!” Vince whispered, still giggling under his breath. “You had it off with the Head Shaman?” “No!” Howard shouted. Dennis stirred on the bed and muttered in his sleep. “Methuselah – no! Not the squash racket!” “No,” Howard repeated, hissing it quietly and angrily this time. “He had an argument with his wife and came here. He got wasted and passed out.” “You mean – you’ve still not had it off then?” Vince asked, his face serious now. “Why would I let you know if I did?” Howard asked, aware that he sounded slightly sulky. “So you can put it on MySpace?” “I’d never do that, Howard.” Vince smiled at him, stroking his arm soothingly. Howard let him – it was the first time in months Howard had let him. “Really?” “Of course not. I’m on Facebook now. MySpace is for pensioners and Lily Allen fans.” But Howard could tell he was teasing, and couldn’t help smiling a little. And he didn’t push him away when Vince grasped his upper arms and pulled Howard towards him – and then they were kissing again, and Howard couldn’t believe it could be as good the second time as the first. Their mouths parted against each other, and Vince ran his tongue along the side of Howard’s – and suddenly the intrusive image of a bright yellow pea coat burst into Howard’s mind, like a blossoming migraine, and he pulled away. Vince opened his eyes, startled, and looked at Howard in bewilderment. There was light in the room now, and the pain in Howard’s eyes was so laceratingly clear Vince felt like he’d been slapped. “Go on. Why did you stop?” Vince and Howard started, and Howard turned his head. Dennis was sitting upright on the bed, facing them, arms folded, his sword resting across his lap. “Go on, I said. I want to see more of this. So you’re a virgin, are you, Moon? How… piquant. But it can’t be very easy on your boyfriend.” “He’s not my boyfriend!” Howard nearly screamed in frustration. Dennis’s silver alien eyes narrowed and flitted from Howard to Vince. “So – you’re not in love?” “I am,” Vince said quickly. “I am, but he’s not.” “How can you say that?” Howard demanded. “I’m not the one who goes around kissing everyone I meet – and in exactly the same way!” “What are you talking about, you strap-on sushi kit?” “About the fact that there’s no passion – no soul – behind anything you do, Vince!” “I try to make people happy! I try to make you happy! And the thanks I get is you accusing me of having no soul?” “I want you to try to make me happier than you make other people – happy!” “If you could tell me what to do to not make you always angry that would be a start!” “I just did tell you!” “What? I’m lost.” “Enough arguing!” Dennis stood, gripping his sword. “I liked the kissing better. Do the kissing again.” “Are you some kind of pervert?” Vince asked him. “Yes,” Dennis replied. “A pervert with a very big sword.” “Point.” Vince cast his eyes downward, distressed. There was no escape. * “I’m sure this isn’t what you wanted your first time to be,” Vince apologized to Howard, who was now naked as well, lying on the bed, on his back, with his knees bent, with Vince lying on top of him. Vince stared at the wall over Howard’s head, Howard at Vince’s small white shoulder. “Actually, I just wanted it to be a time,” Howard replied. Their eyes met briefly, and Howard attempted a reassuring smile. Instinctively, he planted an affectionate kiss on Vince’s shoulder, then lay his head back on the pillow. Vince bit his lip and his face dipped shyly, but he kept his eyes on Howard’s. “I’ll try to make it good.” “Don’t try!” Howard replied, with an edge of yearning in his voice that made Vince shiver with alertness. “That’s what I’m saying! You don’t always have to be the best and brightest with the biggest bounciest hair! Just – do what you feel, yeah?” “Start fucking!” Dennis barked. “Mate – why don’t you make yourself useful!” Vince snapped. Dennis took a step towards the bed. “Not like that! We could use a little something to – ease the process. Make a soft landing. Yeah?” “I’m not following you.” “Don’t play dumb, magic-boy. All extreme sports calendar models do anal. Everyone knows that.” “Oh! You want cooking oil!” “Exactly. Run to the kitchen, would you, love?” Dennis left the room reluctantly, watching them over his shoulder as he went. “Don’t do anything until I get back!” As soon as he was gone, Vince leapt out of the bed and locked the door, then leaned against it. Howard sat up and watched as Vince slid down the door, collapsing in front of it. When he was sat on the floor he pulled his skinny legs up to his chest and put his arms around them, his head back against the door, apparently scrutinizing the ceiling. Feeling more than a little self-conscious, Howard nevertheless got out of bed and went to him. He knelt beside Vince and waited, but when Vince made no move to acknowledge him, Howard made the first move. “Alright, little man?” he asked tentatively, daring only to brush Vince’s hair off his shoulder. “I can’t do it, Howard!” Vince groaned, shaking his head in a pique, which made the hair immediately fall back in place. Automatically, Howard brushed it away again, slightly hypnotized, this time letting his fingers drag against the smooth, soft surface of the curve of Vince’s neck. “I don’t mind, honestly. It’s probably time to get it over with, isn’t it?” “I mean I can’t perform under this pressure!” He looked at Howard wildly. “You know about me and pressure! I expect perfection of myself, and what happens? I fold like a pup tent in a strong breeze! So to speak.” He cast his eyes down between his legs ashamedly. Howard smiled dreamily, now playing with Vince’s ear, his finger tracing its whorls. “You mean like that time at school when you were cast in the play?” “I was just playing a tree! All I had to do was stand there and hold me leaves up!” “Instead you panicked because you didn’t feel like you were doing enough, and started body-popping.” “For twenty minutes! I couldn’t figure out how to get off!” “The audience loved it, though. They cheered you on. I was playing the lead, but they all forgot about me. I had to abandon the speech I’d written especially for my character at a crucial moment in his trajectory.” “You mean when he loses his hat?” “The director always undersold the psychological ramifications of that incident.” “Yeah. I never apologized for that, did I, Howard?” “No. But it doesn’t matter. I’m a shit writer.” “Howard.” Vince turned to look at Howard, and took Howard’s face in his hand. Vince’s hand was surprisingly warm. Howard smiled at him, and reached over and took up his other hand. He brought it to his mouth and bit Vince’s knuckles lightly, still smiling, and then held it under his chin. “Why so serious? It’s not like you’re killing someone. And it’s not for real, is it? It’s just some pervert’s fantasy.” “I want it to be for real,” Vince said, holding Howard’s eyes. They both wanted to look away, and neither did. The moment was held too long – and then longer. And then it started to feel not strange, but right, and Howard’s face moved closer to Vince’s, and Vince’s hand snaked around from Howard’s face through his hair to the back of his neck, which was burningly hot. The door vibrated with Dennis’s pounding. “Did I miss anything? I made popcorn!” Vince stamped his foot on the floor. “This is never going to happen!” “Don’t make me teleport in there!” Dennis warned from the other side of the door. Howard stood, sighing, wincing as his joints creaked, and returned to the bed. He resumed the devirginization position and waited. “Vince?” Several minutes had passed, and Howard was starting to wonder what was going on, as well as getting cold. “I’m right here.” Vince appeared at the side of the bed so suddenly that Howard felt unnerved instead of relieved. Before he could process that feeling, however, Vince had climbed on top of him, in a strangely business-like manner. He examined Howard’s face closely and speculatively, as if it were a foreign object whose meaning he was trying to determine. “Vince?!” Howard asked again. “Right here! You’re a remarkably handsome man, you know.” “I am!? Oh. Yeah. ‘Course I am. You don’t need to tell Howard Moon that…. I was voted Total Hottie of 2007 by the Librarians Who Like Jazz Association. What happened to the Head Shaman?” “He probably got a call on his mobile from his wife.” “Oh… that makes sense.” “Now, Howard. I should fairly inform you that I’ve never done this before.” “You haven’t?” “I never even considered it before that night on the roof. But I’ve done a lot of deflowering of virgins in my time.” “You have!?” “This ought to be doubly pleasurable, seeing as how it’ll also be a defloration of myself.” “It will!?” “My manginity. Right. Let’s do this thing.” Vince’s lips against Howard’s were brutal, pressing down, smothering him. His tongue forced its way into Howard’s mouth, apparently searching out his tonsils. Howard wanted to protest, to push him away, overwhelmed, but his cock sprang up rebelliously, hardening against Vince’s. At last Vince pulled back. He licked his lips thoughtfully. “Mmmmmm… good. You like it?” He grabbed Howard’s cock and pumped it in his hand, roughly. “Vince,” Howard panted, “I don’t mean to criticize, but… where’s the romance?” “I’ll send you flowers after, baby. If you suck my cock like a good little woman.” “NO!” Howard grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him away, onto the bed. He scrambled on top of Vince and held him down easily with his greater weight and strength, but their erections remained squished together in a hot damp mass, throbbing, as Howard tried to regain hold of his senses. Vince was laughing, his sweaty fringe in his eyes, his eyes glittering beneath, black locks splayed against the pillow. “What are you doing?” Howard demanded, trying to make it all make sense. “I don’t even know you!” Something in Howard’s tone brought Vince to calm, but a malevolent smirk soon crept onto his face, and his clearly-formed words cut deep into Howard. “But I know you. Cut the bullshit. You don’t want gentleness or tenderness. You want to be taken like a bitch. Now lie down like a good boy and let Daddy tie you up and take care of you.” Howard stared at him another moment in disbelief. Then a little whimper escaped his throat involuntarily, and slowly he nodded. “Yes, sir, Daddy, sir.” Howard lay on his back and raised his arms for Vince’s ministrations. He closed his eyes and sighed as he heard bedsheets being torn. Then felt the material, cool and strangely scratchy, against his wrists. “Tighter,” he instructed, frowning. “No more talking, dickhead,” Vince told him, and shoved a thumb up Howard’s arse, without preparation. After a moment, Howard pushed against it. It felt ridiculously painful, like someone had stuck a small fire up his bum. Wincing, he whispered, “Vince… is this it? Are we having sex?” Vince laughed back, harshly. Howard looked confused. “I just thought - since you’re inside me, and…” “Fool! Aren’t you ever going to shut up?” Using the flat of his hand, Vince slapped Howard hard across the face. At the same time, he used his thumb inside to punctuate every word with a violent motion up. At every dry stab, Howard shuddered. Vince changed tactics. With Howard’s tightness, the thumb had hardly broken through the first clench of muscles, even after several shoves. So Vince began a series of vicious twists, each time swivelling the thumb little further. It was soon wedged in far past the knuckle. Howard yelled in panic at the intrusion. His muscles went into spasm inside at the pain. He strained the bonds around his wrists – but the knots were firmly tight. His ankles were fixed down, too, bound to the bedposts – and he couldn’t even remember Vince doing that. “You virgins,” Vince snorted. “Always screaming and saying no! As if that doesn’t just heat my blood. Make me want to despoil you all the more.” Howard yelped. Every time he tried to struggle away, the thumb was just twisting and rubbing the more painfully. It was agony. Vince’s gaze flicked up and down Howard’s body, coming to rest Howard’s cock, still treacherously half-hard on his belly. Vince sneered in amusement. “Ha! You don’t fool me! I know what you really want. A man with a sword larger than a toddler’s leg. And who’s not afraid to use it.” Howard forced himself to calm. The pain wasn’t so bad if he stopped moving. He took in a shaky breath. “That’s better. Now you’ve got the right idea. Going to lie there and let Daddy get on with business?” “Vince…?” asked Howard, weakly. He searched for a grin, a cheeky look from his friend - anything to confirm this was still a game. Vince loomed silently over Howard. Behind the shadow of his fringe his eyes were dark and unknowable. Then very deliberately, Vince stuck out his tongue. In one swift motion he’d licked Howard’s face, up from the jawline across Howard’s cheek and across the red mark where Howard had been slapped. But he didn’t stop there. He continued up to Howard’s left eye socket. There he jammed in the tip of his tongue and swished it wetly around. Howard’s breath hitched. He’d shut both eyes before the tongue descended, but the exploration of his eyeball was still pretty unnerving. “Tasty,” said Vince. The tip of his tongue was just poking out as he licked it against his lips. “Very, very tasty. Virgin tears.” Howard blinked. His left eyelashes were weighed down with Vince’s spit. Vince’s face was still startlingly close. “So, you going to be a good boy for Daddy? Hmmm? Are you?” He leaned further in and whispered into Howard’s ear. His voice was strangely deep and resonant. “Because believe me, I’m not finished yet.” Howard’s eyes widened. That voice… fear chilled his skin. But this was Vince, wasn’t it? He could trust Vince. “I didn’t hear a yes,” warned Vince. He pushed his slim-hipped body onto Howard’s. Their hot cocks touched. Howard let out a moan. Before he could think, he was rocking his hips up, mashing their cocks together and working himself back to full hardness. “Y…yes… Yes sir. Please sir.” “Right decision, meathead.” Howard moaned once more – this time in pain. Vince had yanked his thumb straight out of Howard’s arse. It was even more intense than when Vince had forced the thumb in, like Howard’s innards were being dragged out backwards. “Now, first things first,“ announced Vince, sitting up straight, and starting to climb off Howard. As the emptiness in his arse throbbed to a memory, Vince’s warm body was leaving him too. Howard shivered with the loss of them both. But within seconds, something else was being shoved towards Howard, right in his face – the waving end of Vince’s cock. “Go on - suck me off, bitch.” Howard strained at his bonds, uselessly. “Vince – you know I… I’ve… never before…” “Yes, yes!” Vince replied, impatiently. “I know! Less talking, more sucking!” Vince’s cock shoved harder. It smeared moisture across Howard’s lips. “Come on! Open up!” barked Vince. Until recently, Howard had never even imagined this – sucking another man’s cock, or how it would taste and feel inside his mouth. But suddenly, it didn’t seem so wrong. Perhaps because the cock in question belonged to Vince. Ever since their kiss on the rooftop, he’d been looking at Vince in a brand new way. Stealing shameful glances at him - at the bulge Vince swung around, so obvious in those tight shiny jumpsuits. Lying in bed at night, wishing more than anything that Vince would come over and slip in for a cuddle. Vince had never needed an invite before – all it took was a couple of crimps, and he’d strip off and jump right in. Why had Vince stopped? So when Howard opened up his mouth, he didn’t question it as the erect cock slipped in quite naturally. And when he licked cautiously at the silken head and it gave a distinct leap in response, it almost felt like coming home. In fact, pride was filling his chest. Yes - he, Howard TJ Moon, had made Vince’s cock twitch with sheer sexual pleasure. Of course it had! For years he’d wasted his mighty sexual powers, his god-given magnetism. He’d frittered it away on self-abuse like throwing tadpoles in the wind. No longer would that happen – no, sir. Because now he had Vince. Howard opened wider, about to take Vince further in, right to the root. “Call that a blow job?” Vince grabbed a handful of Howard’s hair, forcing his head sharply up. Then Vince plunged aggressively, deeper into Howard’s throat. “I said suck! Not slobber like a toddler puffing into a balloon! Again!” Howard choked, gasping for air. “No! No! Not like that, either!” Howard gave a half-strangled slurp, his chest rising and falling, helpless as Vince thrust in and out. “Arrgh!” shouted Vince. “Mind the teeth!” Howard twisted away, trying desperately to escape. But Vince was holding his head in an iron grip. Eventually, after Howard had been spluttering and hacking over his cock for about a minute, Vince withdrew. He shoved Howard’s head away in disgust. “Useless! And your mouth showed such promise!” Howard flopped sideways to the pillow and exploded into a coughing fit. Saliva and a string of something stickier dribbled out the corner of his mouth, forming a wet, warm puddle underneath. Vince stood wide-legged by the bed, surveying Howard with his hands on his hips. His drool-smeared erection stuck out like a flagstaff. “Well,” he sneered, showing his teeth in a surprisingly wolfish leer. “It matters not.” He took up the Head Shaman’s sword and raised it above his head. An unearthly light glinted from its blade. The sword came down with a swish and snick. Pain shot through Howard’s legs. His tight ankle bonds had been hacked free by the sword’s blow. Howard brought his knees up and down again, stretching his legs out and revelling in the freedom. Pins and needles prickled inside his thighs. “Resume position!” barked Vince, flinging away the sword. It fell with a harsh clang against the wall. And jumping on top of Howard, Vince pinned him to the bed. As his aching limbs were forced double again, Howard felt that reality had melted and flown away. He’d always imagined sex would be a more purely physical affair – in-out-in-out, dirty fumbles and fluid spurting. Not like this. Like when Vince had been choking him with his cock. Howard had hated it, he’d been crying stupid, acrid tears of self-pity, and yet –oh God, he wanted it. It was foul, yet he knew he deserved every inch, and more. It was all too much. Howard pulled at the bindings on his wrists, wishing he could caress the forceful little body on top as it tried to stab him with his cock. Wth another pang of self-disgust, Howard realised that not being able to touch Vince was only making him all the more aroused. “Yes! Daddy’s on target!” shouted Vince, triumphantly. Howard lifted his hips and closed his eyes, trying to welcome the battering at his already-abused entrance. But the blunt head of Vince’s cock wouldn’t go in, no matter how many times Vince pushed and roared in frustration. Vince shoved a few more times, angrily. It achieved nothing except white-lipped whimpers from the tied-up man below. Throwing his head back, Vince laughed theatrically. “Aha! I knew it! Such a tight little virgin after all!” He looked around. “I believe something will be required… no, not the popcorn… perhaps for later on.” He leaned over and started rummaging on the floor by the bed. Howard looked down and was surprised to see a box of golden popcorn sitting on the ground. Next to that was a bottle of cooking oil, the very same brand that Bollo used to fry his eggs and bacon in - oh right, thought Howard. It must be the bottle from the kitchen. How had it got there? Perhaps the Head Shaman had magicked it or something before he’d gone off to answer his phone call. Vince straightened up. He unscrewed the bottle and tossed the top over his shoulder. It fell without sound into the darkness. Then stretching out his arm, Vince tipped the bottle up and poured the whole lot out in one go. It gave a noisy gurgle. Howard jumped. A stream of cold oil had hit him right on the cock and balls. The oil gushed further down and Howard arched his back. He parted his thighs wide as the coolness slid into his crack, trickling down and easing the itchy burning inside. He sighed in relief. The mattress below began to spawn two oily buttock-dimple lakes of overflow. Vince re-positioned himself. He grabbed Howard’s thighs hard. Angry marks sprung up beneath his fingers, flaring across Howard’s flesh. With the goal finally oiled and ready for piercing, Vince grit his teeth and tensed his buttocks. The head of Vince’s cock inched forward in a series of shoves. When it finally forced through the tight ring of muscles at Howard’s entrance, Vince let out a sharp breath of satisfaction. But then his cock stopped short, wedged fast. Vince gave a few short, frustrated bounces, all to no avail. “Blast to Hades’ codpiece! Out of oil!” Vince pulled out with a short, nasal grunt, took his cock in his hand, and rubbed it across Howard’s dangling balls, up and down like a chef rolling a shushi roll. Soon it was glistening with the oil trapped in Howard’s scrotal hairs. “Aha!” Vince preened. He cupped his length in his hands like a prize marrow oiled for ‘Best Novelty Vegetable’ at the local fair. He readied himself for re-entry. Howard felt the prodding at his entrance. He steeled himself again. This was it, he was going to get to have sex, to do it at least once before he died. And Vince was going to be his very first, perhaps his only... Howard thrust his hips up, trying to help the penetration. Or perhaps they’d already had sex. After all, Vince’s cock had had been inside him, if only for a second. At the thought of Vince’s cock inside him again, Howard wriggled his hips even more. His fingers strained, as if trying to touch something invisible and pull it closer. “Anything,” he panted. “Anything you want. Make me do things. Anything. I’ll do it.” Howard flushed. A memory flashed before him – of how disgusted Vince had been the first time he’d caught Howard in the cupboard, self-inducing his Chinese burns. And now this. How would he ever face Vince again? Howard turned his face to the side, and so he didn’t see the blow about to fall. Vince hit Howard’s face in exactly the same place he had the last time. The skin on Howard’s right cheekbone flared white, immediately flushing to an angry purple. “Of course you want me to use you!” shouted Vince. “I’m the best! Now keep still and let Daddy do his business!” Howard gasped – but not at the blow. The shock of the afterheat on his battered skin – it was arousing him even more. What sort of person got off on this? No wonder no one had ever wanted to have sex with him before. But Vince was already sinking his cock into Howard, deeply, and right up to the hilt. Howard had no time to do anything now but break into a slick, all-over-body sweat and scream. And with a deep, un-Vince-like roar, the man on top drew back and started to pound into Howard. Within seconds, Howard was being rammed up backwards against the wall. The crown of his head jammered each time Vince slammed in. Helplessly, Howard tried to push back against it with his tied hands. But it was useless. All he could do was try to ride it out, his arse afire with bizarre intensity. Then Vince grabbed Howard’s buttocks, lifting him higher. As the angle changed, colours pinged and exploded before Howard’s eyes. Heat prickled down the inside of his thighs. His toes curled. Howard threw his head back and stretched his mouth open wide. A thought wisped through his melting brain - this must be what pleasure feels like. Vince thrust in once more, slick and easy with oil. He hit the same spot all over again. Howard arched up, the colours behind his eyelids even brighter. He grabbed the bindings to his wrists and pulled them as if grabbing onto life. But Vince was speedily approaching his peak. He let out a growl, and began to come. * Howard could hardly believe it. Vince was really coming inside him. But there was no mistaking it – Howard’s insides were so abused by now that he felt every spasm, spurt and jolt from Vince with a dozen times sensitivity. Eventually, the last tremors from Vince’s cock pumped away to a gentle tremble. Howard wanted to hold Vince, to kiss him, to stroke him and thank him for being his first time - but Vince was sprawled on top of him, far out of reach of Howard’s bound arms. Anyway, at least one thing was for sure, thought Howard. His virginity was long gone. When another man shot his happy juice up your arse, then goodbye maidenhood. Eventually Vince’s cock started to retreat, slipping out in a mess of sperm and oil. Panting, Vince pulled himself to his knees. Howard chafed at his tightly-pulled wrists. As Vince had lifted up, his body had stroked across Howard’s still-hard cock. Howard was still so painfully hard. He was so close to coming himself. “Please, Vince,” he breathed. “Please… touch me.” But Vince was too busy examining his own genitals. There were shiny red streaks along Vince’s cock, showing neon bright in the dimness of the bedroom. With an inquiring noise, Vince reached forward and stretched Howard’s cheeks apart. He made an inspection of Howard’s anus. Howard leant into Vince’s slightest touch. “Yes,” Howard begged, waggling his erection, hoping that Vince would get the general idea. “Hmm. Less blood than for your average devirginization,“ stated Vince. “Probably not the fabled arse-hymen. Pity.” And, inspection over, Vince bunched up a corner of sheet from the end of the bed and coolly began to wipe the stains from his penis. Howard couldn’t care less what rubbish Vince gibbered. He only wanted those hands around his cock, pumping it up and down. “Vince! Stop messing about! You’re not going to leave me like this?” Vince had retrieved the box of popcorn and was sitting strangely straight-backed on the end of the bed, picking out the largest kernels in a pompous, overly fussy way. It reminded Howard of something or someone he couldn’t quite remember. But Howard had other, more urgent things on his mind. “Vince?” cried Howard, in frustration. He thrashed about, desperate to find anything to rub himself against to relieve the pressure. “Oh God, please!” “Ahhh...” Vince munched on the popcorn with obvious pleasure. “This has really been a most enjoyable encounter.” He looked over at Howard. His eyes suddenly narrowed. “You are a quite remarkably attractive man.” “Then why won’t you touch me, Vince?” howled Howard. Vince tilted his head as he considered this. He set down his popcorn. “Well - I usually have a rule about virgins - but I think I’ll make an exception for you.” Vince moved towards the bed. Howard’s hopes rose. “So you enjoyed performing as my cock-sucking little bitch?” “Just pull me off, Vince!” shouted Howard, losing all dignity. “You worked me up so that I’m close to bursting! I can’t bear it!” Vince laughed. “So eager for more! Well,” he stepped up close. Howard could feel his breath. “Stay that way. And we’ll see.” And Vince placed one last lick onto Howard’s face, pressing down hard across the colouring bruise. Then he smiled - the same eerie smile as before, which narrowed his eyes and ended in a hint of snarl. “What? We’ll see? Fuck that!” wailed Howard, pulling at his bonds. “What about now, you bastard! At least untie me so I can wank myself off!” Howard widened his eyes. “No Vince, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it – don’t go!” But Vince had hefted up the Head Shaman’s sword under one arm and, sticking the box of popcorn under his other, was making his way out the door, still totally naked. Howard was left alone in the darkness of the night, with only a hard on for company, and thinking – so that was sex. Wondering if the aching in his frustrated balls could possibly get any worse. Yes. Probably it would. The night was young. * The ache when he woke up, some time in the afternoon, was terrible – in his arms, which were still tied to the bedposts, and in his arse. His cock, however, was bobbing cheerfully at his stomach. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Vince moving around, doing something with his clothes. Probably deciding what to wear, from the rate he was throwing them around. “Good morning?” he called shyly. Vince stopped moving. He came to the bed and stood over Howard. He met Howard’s eager expression with a look of haughty contempt, complete with flared nostrils, that Howard only knew him to wear when he was both furious and hurt. It had happened then, just as Howard had feared. He’d always known that if he ever had sex with anyone, they’d hate him for it afterwards. “Oh. You’re awake, are you, Casanova?” Vince sneered. “Vince, I’m sorry. Can we just forget it ever happened?” “Do you even know what happened?” “What do you mean?” Now that he was beginning to wake up more fully, he was becoming irritated with Vince as well. What right did he have to act this way? Hadn’t he been the one who wanted it to happen? “It wasn’t ME, you berk!” Vince cried, his voice cracking. “Now wait a minute. We were both involved. Everything was consensual. You may regret it now, but don’t pretend that you weren’t even here….” “Want to know where I was? Up there!” Vince pointed at the ceiling over the bed. “Out of me body. Just a floating consciousness. I couldn’t even get off. Just watch you and him go at it!” “Him? Who?” Fully awake now, Howard was starting to wonder if Vince had simply gone mad. “The Head Shaman, you twit! He occupied my body to get off with you! You lost your cherry to a murdering madman! And you couldn’t even tell the difference between us.” “This… is a dream. There’s something wrong here….” “Wrong!?” Vince’s voice sounded strangled. “I’ll show you wrong!” He snatched something glittery off the floor and held it up for Howard to see. “Vince!” Howard’s voice was hushed, scared. “Who did that to the mirror-ball suit?” “Your little matey, Dennis! He tore it up to tie you up! It’s in pieces now!” Vince was nearly in tears. “You can wear it that way and say it’s your new look,” Howard pointed out consolingly. “Not a bad idea actually,” Vince admitted reluctantly. “But that’s not the point, Howard!” he cried. “Look, Vince, would you just untie me, so we can talk!” “No way! You can stay that way, you dirty manwhore. I’m leaving. I’m getting me own room, elsewheres.” Vince hefted a giant trunk – Howard realized now that he’d been packing – towards the door, but soon gave up. “Oi! I’ll send for my stuff later.” “Vince… where are you going?” Howard pleaded. “Away from you!” After Vince had left, Howard waited, the blazing ache in his back and arms and shoulders and arse almost overpowering any ability to feel the loss of Vince – of their friendship or any hope of a relationship. He hoped it would also overpower his humiliation at being discovered by Naboo and Bollo when he called for their help. Which he would have to do soon, because he wouldn’t be able to take it much longer. And then, after they’d laughed at him (he figured for about an hour, depending on how much weed they’d had), he’d be fired. Out on the streets, days before Christmas. A street-random. It wasn’t nearly as bad he’d thought losing his virginity would be.

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #howard moon #dennis the head shaman #howard moon/dennis #howard moon/dennis the head shaman

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cheesytoucans · 6 years ago

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Revue Starlight Supernatural AU: Blood Donors (part 2)

Tendo Maya was terrified. Life had been so good lately that she just knew the other shoe was about to drop. And it was going to be all her fault. For there was something dangling like the sword of Damocles over the most precious thing in Maya’s life.

Her beautiful, defiant Claudine had finally blessed her by letting Maya love her. These last few months with her partner fully and willingly by her side have been blissful, more than Maya could have ever hoped for and yet…

She wanted more.

That was the awful, selfish truth. She was such a wretched creature that she couldn’t just enjoy the moments Claudine was wrapped up in her arms without wanting to consume her completely.

She wanted to taste the sweet lifeblood running though those veins. Claudine was so full of fire, it shone in her eyes whenever she challenged Maya, whenever she stood up to try again and again, even if she knew she was going to lose. Maya would bet everything she owned that Claudine’s blood was as powerful as the blonde’s resolve to reach the top. Maya wanted it so badly.

But there was no way she was worthy of such a precious gift.

There was no way Claudine would share her lifeforce with Maya, especially if she realized how selfish her girlfriend really was. If she knew the depths of Maya’s hunger for her, the wolf would run away as fast as she could. Because Maya longed for a lot of things. Not only for Kuro’s blood, but for the chance of taking care of her while she recovered from the blood loss. For having the especial kind of bond that formed between vampire and donor. For being able to tell the world (and every other vampire) that this wonderful creature was hers and she was going to protect and cherish her til her dying breath.

But it will all remain as a secret wish, because Maya was terrified of Claudine’s possible rejection. She was too much of a coward to ask for something so sacred.

At least, it will remain secret for a while. Maya knew it was going to come out sooner or later and then this perfect little bubble she’s been living in with her beloved would implode in her face.

So when an absolutely livid Kaoruko clad only in a bathrobe stormed into Maya’s room, the brunette felt her stomach sinking. She already knew where this was going.

“Tendou-han, I will have a few words with you. There are a lot of things I want to say, but the first is: what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Maya tried to play dumb. There was a small chance this was about something else after all.

Wrong. It was exactly what she thought it was about. Time to change tactics. She told Kaoruko it was none of her bussiness, giving her a serious look. Her fellow vampire did respect her after all, maybe even saw her as a bit of a mentor. Hopefully that would be enough to get her to back off.

“Oh yeah? Then why did I have to teach Kuro-han about sharing blood? And why is my fiancée holding her while she cries right now?”

If Maya thought her stomach was sinking earlier, it was now somewhere in the underworld. Making Claudine cry in pain was the last thing she wanted.

She could feel her neutral mask cracking as the guilt hit her. Claudine was the one person who really got to her enough to make her lose her cool when there where witnesses around. Kaoruko saw her weakness and pounced, relentlessly pushing until the ugly truth fell from Maya’s lips.

Soon, all her insecurities came rushing out. Kaoruko’s anger started fading the more she heard Maya talk. By the time Maya’s voice was scratchy from overuse and tears where running down her cheeks, Kaoruko was holding her and caressing her hair.

“You dummy, Kuro-han feels she is the one who’s not good enough for you. There’s nothing to be afraid of”

Kaoruko went on to explain what had happened in the bathroom in detail, and tried to convince Maya just to talk about it with Claudine. Maya’s resolve to keep her feelings hidden started to crumble. Maybe she should talk to her wolf, the damage was already done anyways.

By the time Kaoruko was satisfied enough with her efforts to make Maya stop being an idiot (her words), it was already late enough for everyone else to be in bed.

Maya reluctantly made her way to Kuro’s room. She didn’t know what to expect.

She certainly didn’t expect the door to be locked.

Claudine never locked her door. Ever since Maya started her nightly visits, she could just walk into the blonde’s room.

She fled back to her room. She was not ashamed to admit she cried herself to sleep. It seems she has her answer, and it was exactly what she thought it would be.

The next two days were excruciating, for everyone. All the girls could tell something was wrong, and they were walking on eggshells around the pair. Kaoruko and Futaba tried to help, but they couldn’t hope to match their stubbornness.

The worst part, in Maya’s opinion, was the way Claudine seemed so… subdued. All the fight seemed to have gone out of her. She could barely meet Maya’s eyes, even when they were practicing. Needless to say, rehearsals had been hell.

It happened during the third day.

Someone from class B screwed up and a fairly heavy prop went flying at Maya’s head. She was too busy staring wistfully at her girlfriend (was she still her girlfriend?) to actually use her superior reflexes to dodge like any sensible person would.

Next thing she knows, she’s on the ground with Claudine kneeling next to her. The blonde was talking a mile a minute, looking terrified. Maya wished she could understand her, but her ears are ringing and she could feel a warm, sticky fluid running down her temple.

Finally, the ringing went down enough for her to hear all the girls talking over each other. Some asking if she was alright, others about taking her to the nurse, some even thinking of calling an ambulance. Someone (most likely another vampire) said that she should drink blood immediately to help her body deal with the damage. Everyone agreed it was a good idea, but there was a tiny problem. Namely, no one had any blood bags at hand.

“Take mine”

Maya must be hallucinating, there was no way she heard those words come out of Claudine’s lips. Then the girl threw her thick hair over one shoulder, exposing the other to the brunette’s gaze. Kuro slowly moved closer, determination shining in her eyes. Right until Maya sat up and took her arm in a vice grip to halt her in her tracks.

“No”

Kuro visibly took it the wrong way. She scowled, and practically growled the next words.

“Don’t be stupid, you need it!”

“I said no”

Despite her best efforts to stay angry, Kuro felt herself tearing up. Was Maya really so repulsed by her that she would refuse her even in a emergency?

“Listen, I… I know you don’t… You don’t want me like that. I know I’m not good enough to be your donor… But please, just this once, just take it”

Kuro closed her eyes, trying not to cry in front of everyone, only to snap then back open when she felt a hand lovingly cupping her face. What she saw left her breathless: Her vampire, with the softest look in her eyes, not even attempting to hide the fondness that was clear in her eyes and her voice as she spoke and absolutely destroyed her.

“My Claudine… You are so precious to me, and you deserve so much better than this” Maya brought her forehead against Kuro’s, staring deeply into widening crimson eyes, willing the blonde to feel her sincerity. Her voice took on that low, smooth tone that her girlfriend not-so-secretly loved as she murmured the next words against Claudine’s lips, “When I take your blood for the first time, it will be on a soft bed, surrounded by candlelight as I hold you in my arms all night long, with only the moon as our witness.”

Several people gasped, but Maya was too focused on Claudine (and probably concussed) to care. Claudine’s face was going through every shade of red as she sputtered and babbled in French, completely flustered, and it was too adorable to miss.

Sadly, the head wound caught up to her. Her vision was going black around the edges, so she closed her eyes and rested her head against Kuro’s shoulder. Maybe if she took a short nap…

After being discharged from the hospital, Maya spent the night In Kuro’s room, cuddling and finally talking about their feelings. Claudine seemed more flustered than usual since Maya regained consciousness, but the vampire dismissed it. Her girlfriend had never been the best at handling feelings.

What Maya didn’t know and Claudine refused to tell her is that, in werewolf culture, making romantic declarations or gestures and proclaiming the moon as a witness was basically proposing. To make matters worse, many wolves from both classes had been present for it, so now the entire school was on fire with gossip about the two top students. And the absolute worst: Kaoruko was fully aware of the meaning of Maya’s words, and Kuro could feel her smirking even when that cursed vampire wasn’t in the room.

What neither of them knew was that Nana was already planning their future mating ceremony. She was secretly conspiring with Kuro’s mother as well. Banana and Mrs. Saijo knew that both Kuro and Maya were career-oriented people, so they probably wouldn’t be mated until they were in their late twenties, but it never hurt to be prepared.

A week later, everyone stared as a dopey Maya stuck to Kuro like glue, playing the part of the perfect gentleman and spoiling her girlfriend in any way she could. Even the teachers surrendered to their fate and let her stay by Kuro’s side all day long, even in class. The poor blonde wolf spent the day blushing to the roots of her hair under everyone’s knowing glances.

When they arrived home, Kuro cursed the fact that Futaba’s bike let Kaoruko arrive first, as the little menace had put up banners proclaiming ‘Congrats on getting your fangs wet!’ all over the common room.

Junna and Claudine screamed.

Karen asked what that meant.

Mahiru choked.

Futaba and Hikari looked resigned.

Maya kept grinning dazedly.

And Banana took pictures.

It was wild.

~~~♡~~~

Author Notes: Curly strikes again, and is yet again sleep deprived so this is probably full of mistakes but I’m too tired to keep spellchecking, just take this offering as it is.

I almost split this in two, but I thought the cliffhanger of Maya finding out Kuro locked her door was too cruel, so it ended up being long af (hell, if you think this is ranting, you aren’t prepared for the Nanoha AU. That’s shaping up to be a whole testament. It’s coming. Maybe I’ll drop some tiny bits first).

I tried to make the declaration as over-the-top and dramatic as possible, because Kuromaya are just that Extra and gay. I wanted to title it ‘Blood donors and accidental marriage proposals’ but that would have given the surprise away.

Now we have a bit more of werewolf culture yay!

I appreciate feedback, opinions, other hc, etc. Everything gives me more ideas.

I’m about to die, see ya gays later.

#ok holy fuck #this is the greatest #maya and claudine being so fucking dysfunctional #thats a mood #but also maya saying all that shit #while claudine's fucking pack mates are standing right there #I'm laughing so fucking hard #she'll never live that down #futaba is gonna wrestle her later and tease her #fucking wild #and maya being all blood drunk #also fucking wild #and congrats on getting your fangs wet fucking slayed me #anyways this is perfect #thank you for these gifts as always #shoujo kageki revue starlight #long post #submission #supernatural au

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